


More Than Meets the Eye

by xEverlark4Lifex



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Inspired by The Hunger Games, Police!Everlark, Shameless Ogling, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-06-09 08:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15263094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xEverlark4Lifex/pseuds/xEverlark4Lifex
Summary: I’m no good at summaries, so just give it a try.





	1. Prologue

**Katniss**  

I struggled to stand up in the five-inch heels the very sweet, elderly saleswoman had insisted I try on, apparently completely ignoring the fact that my face and clothing suggested that I am anything but one of those girly girls who can manage to do gymnastics in them. I don't even know how I got there, I had just been trying to buy a gift for Prim and Annie. 

Then again, I always had been a pushover, always letting others do what they want to me, getting walked over like a doormat. The only time I would take a stand would be for my - then – 2 year old sister, Primrose Everdeen. Prim has always been the one bright thing in my life, always the light above the oblivion of darkness and death that is my life.  

I successfully stumbled across the short aisle for Mags, as the elderly saleswoman's tag read, and grinned, turning triumphantly with my hands in the air. My heart warmed at her pleased smile. Just as I was about to attempt to stagger back, a sharp, powerful voice echoed throughout the store. 

"Everyone with your hands in the air! If you move, you'll be shot on sight," it warned. I spun around to see a whole group of criminals in masks with some of them pointing guns at the unfortunate customers in this store. I quickly put my hands on my head, and tried not to quiver as my eyes followed the gun pointing at Mags.  

I was distracted by one of the men strutting over to the cashier's desk and stealing the money, but whipped my head around when I heard one of the men saying something that could only be interpreted in two ways. 

"Hey, boss, I found one for us," the man said, clutching at a struggling 3-year-old child's delicate wrist. By the way he ran his hands over her arms, it had to be the other way.  

"Perfect, lay her down here. I will go first," the boss, I assumed, replied. 

I looked at the girl. She had dark skin and dark hair, her brown eyes filled with tears alight with dimming innocence. She reminded me so much of Willow, even though they look nothing alike, and I knew without a doubt, that I could not let her get assaulted. I had to save her, even though I wasn’t able to save Willow. Or maybe because I couldn’t save Willow. 

"I volunteer," I said, in as much of a strong, commanding voice as I had been able to muster. Immediately, all of the men part of the gang looked at me, scrutinizing.  

Finally, the one who I guessed was the leader shrugged. "A consenting, grown one will be easier than a screaming, undeveloped child, anyway." He nodded to the man who was clutching the little girl, and he let go, shoving her to her crying mother, who held her close. 

I walked towards the center of the circle of leering criminals, accepting my inevitable death once the men got through with me.  

A cold, clammy hand clamped down on my arm. Then another one grasped my neck. One lifted my ratty sweatshirt slightly. I caught the eye of another, the lecherous look in his eye sending waves of repulsion down my spine. 

I closed my eyes and thought of the one remaining happy thing in my life. 

 _Prim._  

 _No!_  

 _This is_ not _what I want!_    
_What will happen to_ Prim _?_  

 _They will_ not  _take this from me._  

 _They will_ not  _force me to leave my baby sister_ _alone_ _._  

 My eyes opened furiously, and a newfound rage had surged throughout me, leaving me with undiminishing strength.  

I let my raw anger control me. 

I grasped one of the men's wrist and flipped him over, stabbing him in the hand that touched me with my five-inch-heel. Shouts from the men filled my ears and they surged toward me. I had no fear. I had hope, stronger than the former would ever be. Hope for Prim, who is destined to be a doctor, her love of playing doctor with me and evident healing hands as proof of that.  

I dropped down to a planche and pushed up off the ground and turned around in mid-air, swinging my legs around with me and using them to unbalance the first row of the gang trying to reach me. I stepped on them, crushing them below me, bracing myself for the next onslaught. It went so quickly. I hooked my arm around one of the men's neck and punched him roughly in the stomach, kicking another in a similar place. One man had tried to flip me over but I had locked my ankles around his neck, using the momentum I had gained from him flipping me to reverse the motion, flipping him instead. I threw punches, stabbed some with my heels, flipped others, knocked even more unconscious. Gunshots sounded, but with the confusing mass, only the criminals were hurt, none of the customers. 

Through the madness, something's – or someone's - quivering form had caught my eye. I looked between the mass of bodies to see a bloodied hand grasping a gun, finger starting to pull the trigger. I identified the man's target as Mags, and fighting my way through the maelstrom of men, I jumped in front of her just as the bullet fired.  

White hot agony had travelled from my left shoulder to singe my nerves, to dapple my vision with its black flames. Blood trailed down my arm.  

However, I had no time to linger on the fact that I had just been shot, and instead turned to face the person who shot me. I marched up to him and grabbed his wrist, twisting it behind his back until his grip on the gun in his other hand loosened and I yanked it, using the butt to knock him unconscious.   

The remainder of the men attacking me demanded my attention, their shouts filled with hostility. I moved them around away from the staff and customers, flipping the first criminal who charges after me, punching the next in the throat, kicking the other's back inwards, shuddering at the sickening, resounding crack of bones. 

After what had felt like hours, I came face to face with the supposed leader of the group. He pointed his gun at me and tried to shoot, but had run out of bullets. I wrenched his gun from his grasp and shoot him with the gun I managed to hold on to, straight in the balls, then knocked him unconscious with the butt of his gun.  

I looked down at the mass of bleeding bodies, panting. I then spotted some rope that I expected they were going to use on me, and instead use it to tie them all up.  

Sirens sounded outside and I turned to see Mags sobbing with her ear pressed against her phone, probably calling the police who had just barged into the store, guns at the ready. 

"Sorry guys, you got late and missed the party," I snapped at the police, who looked confusedly between me and the gang of criminals. "Don't worry, though, you can have the leftovers," I said, motioning towards the tied-up group. "Thank you so fucking much for helping citizens in need. Now, are you going to do the remaining part of your job and take them to the station for interrogation, or do I need to do that as well?" 

"Uh, um, yeah. Take them to the cars, boys," one of them said. I snorted derisively.  

I then turned around, checking to see if the customers and staff were okay. I threw the heels off and walked over to the little girl and her mother. 

"Is she okay?" I asked the mother. She nodded, crying, thanking me for saving her daughter and I embraced her, shaking my head, insisting it didn’t matter. What mattered was whether or not the little girl got hurt. "May I?" I asked, motioning to the girl. The mother nodded. 

I knelt down to the girl's height and gently tapped her on the shoulder. She peeked at me from her mother's arms. "Hello there, sweetie. Are you okay?" I asked. She nodded warily. "I'm Katniss, what's your name?" 

"Rue," she mumbled in response. 

"Well, Rue, as a reward for being so strong and brave, here's a rue flower, just for you," I murmured soothingly, snatching a rue flower from one of the nearby bouquets decorating that store and tucking it behind her ear. She had smiled and thrown her tiny arms around me. 

"Fank woo, Katnith," Rue said in her soft voice. My eyes widened in surprise at the gesture before I returned it.  

I let her go after a few moments and waved to her before checking on Mags. 

"Are you okay, Mags?" She nodded and I helped her sit down before I got summoned by the chief.  

"Hello, old man. Are you going to question me as well? Maybe asks for tips on how to do your fucking job?" I asked. 

"Well, Sweetheart, I do need you to answer some questions for me," the haggard chief replied. 

"Sweetheart? I literally just stabbed half of these men and knocked the other half unconscious." He just grinned. "If you want to know what happened, there are security cameras. Watch them, and if you have any more questions, here's my number," I said, jotting it down on his clipboard. I glanced down at his badge and nametag before continuing. "I am way too tired right now, plus, in case you haven't noticed, I'm currently bleeding, Chief Abernathy, so you can run along and watch the film. Sober up and think if you really need to ask me a question before you call."  

"Wow, you're really stubborn. Fine, Sweetheart, I'll watch the video but you still need to come to the station after you've been patched up so we can learn what happened from your point of view," Chief Abernathy replied. 

I rolled my eyes and huffed. "Fine. I'll meet you at the station." With that I grabbed a primrose flower crown for Prim, and a simple charm bracelet for Annie, tossed a 50 dollar note on the cashier's desk and left the store. I put the crown and bracelet carefully in my backpack and climbed onto my green Harley-Davidson and sped off to the police station. 

When I got there, I locked by motorcycle to a bar, grabbed my bag, and followed Chief Abernathy, who reached not long after, to the interrogation room. 

"Alright Sweetheart, first a few simple questi – wait, why are you still bleeding?! Didn't the paramedics patch you up?!" Haymitch yelled. He then groaned when I shook my head at him. 

"Just bring me some bandages, a sterile needle and thread, tweezers, antibiotics, vodka and honey. I'll be fine," I told him. Honestly, my shoulder was so numb from the pain, and I had seen Mom perform the treatment so many times, that I was pretty sure I could do it without the help of those God-awful paramedics and doctors who told me shit I already knew. 

Abernathy nodded at me, frowning. "Stubborn. You could totally work for us. Right, we might as well carry on then. I'll ask you some questions, then we'll watch the video, and if after I have any more queries you'll answer them and we'll see what needs to be done with you," Chief Abernathy grumbled. 

I sighed and answered the questions I knew were going to come before he gets to ask them. "My name's Katniss Everdeen; I'm 23 years old - here is my ID," I began, flashing him my card. "I work as a trainer in Victor's Gym; my family consists of me and my 2-year-old sister Prim – both of my parents are dead, and so is my other younger sister, Willow; I do not have a criminal record; I was at the store shopping for a gift for Prim when the gang broke in and I don’t know who the hell any of them are." 

Chief Abernathy nodded, impressed. "Good, can you give me a summary of your life?" 

I groaned. Why did he need to know? "Fine. My father died when I was 11 and Willow was 7, and my mother fell into a deep depression. I had to care for my own and hunted in the woods near my old house to keep Willow and Mom fed. I got diagnosed with leukaemia but still had to care for them. Willow was shot dead right in front of me. Mom drowned herself in alcohol and started bring guys in after 10 years. 10 years after she started that, she drunkenly decided to get pregnant with one of the fertilised egg cells she had stored from when she and Dad took on IVF for me and gave birth to my sister, Primrose. 3 months after her birth, she committed suicide via overdose on drugs and I was left to care for Prim by myself. I relapsed with leukaemia; I survived again. I got my Master's degree in Science early and found a job as a trainer and had my sister cared for my one of my best friends." I said this all in a lifeless tone, despite the immense heartache I still feel at Dad's and Willow’s death and Mom's suicide. 

"Well, then let's skip straight to the video, shall we? I need some of my officers to be here too, however. They'll be bringing you your healing supplies, too." 

"Cool. Make sure they bring the vodka, though." Chief Abernathy raised a brow but acquiesced and spoke into his intercom.  

Soon after, two officers came into the room, one of them with the vodka, which he handed to me. I chugged it, soothing my dry throat and then taken the remaining medical supplies from the other officer.  

“What?” I asked, feeling their curious gazes on me. 

“You sure drinking at a police station is wise?” one of the officers replied. 

I rolled my eyes. “For God’s sake. The vodka is supposed to be for my wound, but I just went through hell and back, so forgive me for having a drink. Abernathy over is already drunk, anyway. So why should it matter?” 

The officer nodded sheepishly and Chief Abernathy laughed. 

I covered the tweezers in the vodka and used them to extract the bullet, hissing at the inevitable sting; the wound was pretty deep, me having been so close to the gun. Then I had cleaned the wound, put honey over it, stitched it up, and dabbed the bandages against the wound to take away any remaining blood. Which was a lot.  

"You can heal too? You really could work here. Anyway, let's watch the video, shall we?" Abernathy had asked, carrying out the task at my nod. 

I watched myself stumbling in the heels, quickly followed by the group entering. I saw one man grab Rue and looked away. I couldn't watch after that. Instead I studied the officers' and Abernathy's reactions. Both officers watched wide-eyed and shocked while Chief Abernathy stayed impassive. 

The recording ended and I turned back around. The policemen spoke between themselves before facing me again. 

"Sweetheart, did your father happen to be a Mr. Heath Everdeen?" Abernathy asked. I nodded confusedly, wondering why the hell he had that information. He shared a look with the two other officers, before facing me again. 

Immediately, I lashed out. "What? What's going on? How do you know who my father is?" 

Haymitch's eyes had widened almost imperceptibly. Almost. "I don't know what you're talking about. There is nothing going on." 

That had done it. I had reached for the needle and stabbed it into the wooden desk, perilously close to his index finger. All three officers jumped. 

"Well, look at that. You just killed mahogany." I had just frowned at him and raised an eyebrow expectantly. Sighing, he had continued. "Alright, fine. Besides, you deserve some background information on the band of criminals you single-handedly defeated. Their leader, Seneca Crane, is a wanted criminal here. He deals with taking many hostages, demanding ridiculously large ransoms, but killing them anyway. Usually he is much more discreet than what you experienced today, however he must have grown cocky. We have been after him for 5 years. Because you succeeded in what we have been trying to do for a long time now, we would like to offer you a place on our team, as both a policewoman and as a trainer," Chief Abernathy said to me. I was shocked, to say the least, but had to find out why I should take this job that could leave Prim without family when I already have a reasonably-paying, safe one. 

"And why should I take this offer?" I asked. 

"Well, Miss Everdeen, for you the pay would be $10,000 every month." My mouth hung open at the idea of that much money for Prim. "If you need more motivation, however, we have an upcoming investigation on your father's death, which you can partake in if we deem you fit. We have a lead on the group that may have been responsible for his death." I was pretty sure my jaw was on the ground by then and my eyeballs were bulging out of their sockets. I could find my father’s killer! Daddy, who always played with me, encouraged me, supported me and loved me unconditionally; I could find who took him away from me and my family. 

"I'll do it." Without a doubt.  

"Fantastic. But, Sweetheart, you'll also have to do about 2 years of training with a gun, self-defense and kickboxing," Abernathy warned me. 

"Did I mention I hunted with a bow? My aim is pretty good, so maybe not as long for the gun-training, and I think I handled myself pretty well with Crane and his frozen-brained cronies, so we can let it go for that as well," I replied before leaving the police station. 


	2. Squad 451

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss meets the members of Squad 451 for the first time, and is unnerved by the inexplicable reaction she seems to be having to Peeta Mellark.

Indeed, it only took me half a year to complete the training, and another half-a-year of promotions one after the other to get to where I am today. We managed to capture my father’s, and several others’, murderer – a man nicknamed Avox for his tight-lipped personality that would let no secrets escape. Turns out, he was also Willow’s killer. When I discovered this knowledge a fury greater than the one that overtook me during the Crane situation caused me to work harder and longer than ever before until my father and sister’s deaths had been avenged.  

It also bumped me up 3 police squadron levels.   

Mine and Prim's birthdays went by quickly, me organizing a huge blowout for Prim and her daycare friends and completely disregarding my own except for hanging out with my dearest friends: Annie Cresta, my college best friend who now works as Prim's part-time babysitter; Johanna Mason, my sarcastic, snarky high school best friend; and Madge Undersee, my best friend since middle school, who just so happens to work as a teacher at that same school now. All three very beautiful, very amazing, and very different to me. 

I am already getting ready to enter Chief Abernathy's office to get briefed on the procedures, types of training and cases I will have here. 

"Alright, Officer Everdeen, first things first. We'll have to wait to gather your successes in a report to see if you are capable of being part of the top group of officers – Squad 451; however, either way, I have deemed you fit to be their trainer. The boys and you will be training in several ways: gun training; specialised training, where you will train with your specialised weapons and learn survival techniques; and, of course, the regular training – similar to what you did at Victor's Gym, but more advanced. Nothing you can't handle." I nod along, already thinking through a basics for the training – I can only decide what courses to do when I see their physique, stamina and mental and physical capabilities.  

"There also certain procedures. I have a very strong feeling you will be part of Squad 451, however I will have to wait to tell you the procedures for police investigations. As for training, in case any emergency investigation or other case should arrive, you must let them go immediately. Understand?" I nod confidently. If I can get this job, Prim will never have to want for anything ever again. "Now, Sweetheart, the boys are getting ready for the second half of specialised training, which is the specialised weapons section. You won't be training them for the Specialised Training – Atala will – but you can join in. She is off today, however, but don't worry - the guys know what to do. You can just train alongside them. Now, fair warning, they all usually train shirtless – you know, gives them an ego boost to see girls swoon over them," Abernathy adds with a smirk.  

I roll my eyes. I nearly got assaulted by men, my previous relationship ended badly, and he thinks I could see some cocky dickheads and melt into a puddle. "I highly doubt their egos need any more boosting." 

Chief Abernathy chuckles. "I like you, girl. You've got spunk. Now go and meet your trainees." I nod at him and leave the office. 

Over the past year, as I worked to the top of Panem Police’s squadrons, Haymitch has grown to be a father figure to me, and even to Prim. As much as he denies it, I know that playing with my lovably adorable sister brings the old man a great deal of joy, and he’s even cutting down on his alcoholism so that he won’t be as bad of an influence to Prim. His words, not mine.  

Ever since what happened with Crane and the others, I have completely discarded anything that could attract any attention to me. I know that I am not even remotely good-looking, but Crane's gang were willing anyway, so I am still wary.  

Because of that, I am constantly in my sweatpants, never in anything tight or revealing. I may sweat even more, but, hey, if it repels, I'm in. I even go so far as to put on a mask specially made for me by my good friend, Cinna’s, colleague. It’s incredible realistic, imperceptible, and lightweight. Portia used layers beneath the mask to alter the shape of my face in appearance. The mask itself is only similar to my face in that it’s horrifyingly ugly, as per my request to Portia. I also put on contacts that purely make my eyes look brown instead of their hereditary grey to avoid even the slightest attention towards my unique eye colour, and wear thick-framed fake glasses too. My hair, however, remains in its signature braid. 

My emphasised ugliness takes place internally too: I always act like a bitch.  

The only people who ever see me without my camouflage are Prim, Annie, Madge, Johanna, and of course, they’re boyfriends – also my best friends.. At first Prim balked when I forgot to take the make-up and contacts off, but by now she has gotten used to it and my regular, boring appearance. 

I hope that in the near future I will feel safe enough to discard the disguise, but that time is definitely not now. Not when I am the only girl in Squad 451 and I don’t know if I can fully trust them. 

Crane and his men are not replicas of every man on the planet, but I know that the guys I will have to train, and possibly work with, will be so annoying, that I will inevitably end up being more of my bitchy self. I sigh; I really hope this goes well. 

I walk out of the bathroom and head to where I saw the gym door on my tour, and where Squad 451 currently are. I maneuver through the corridors to an abnormally gigantic gym, filled with high-tech training equipment.  

There are several stations, each with a type of physical or mental training area. There are stations for plant identifying, spear throwing, a wrestling pit, weights and more. However, the station that catches my eye is the archery one. It's very high-tech and very enticing.  

The putrid smell of sweaty men fills my nose and the body part in question wrinkles in distaste. Abernathy, who had reach the Gym just before me, clears his throat and immediately all of the officers look up and form a line in front of him. Meanwhile, I silently appraise each of them. They are all very well-built and muscular – and unfairly handsome -  and since they are the best officers, I assume they are very athletically fit. Already, my courses are set out for them. I raise my eyes to the twinkling ones of the most astonishingly blue eyes. My heart inexplicably flutters and a warmth spreads to my cheeks as I blush, thankful for my mask that hides it and makes me appear unaffected, and scowl before straightening myself and crossing my arms over my chest defensively and looking over to Abernathy. 

"Listen up boys, we've got you a new trainer, who may be your fellow police officer soon too. This right here is Katniss Everdeen. If any of you think she can't keep up with you, you might want to work with her for a while and check yourself. Well, I'll leave you all to get acquainted before you start your training. And boys, be respectful." With that, Chief Abernathy goes to leave with a hard look at the boys.  

I pat my pocket to make sure the USB with the CCTV footage of the Seneca Crane fight is still there; in case the boys need more convincing. 

Great. I hate public speaking – or really, anything that draws attention to me. I sigh and turn to the boys, most of who are looking at me incredulously, as though they can't believe that I am their trainer. Well, that's going to need to change.  

"Okay, listen up, everyone. You all know my name already, so I think we can skip the formalities on my behalf. Before we start, let's straighten things up. Yes, I am not good-looking in the slightest, but that doesn't mean I am bad at my job. The same goes for me being a woman. Now, whether or not I stay as only your trainer, or your trainer and colleague, I  _will_  be treated with respect. Let me repeat, I am a  _woman_  – not an object. And I am not here to be treated like one. If you think I will fall at your feet just because you guys are hot or shirtless and muscled, you are sorely mistaken.  Is that understood?" The guys all seem surprised at my tirade and nod quickly. I breathe out a sigh of relief. "Now that that's out of the way, tell me your names." 

A few of them are staring at the hole in my sweatshirt that clearly shows my bullet scar. I have one in all of my clothes to show that it’s a scar I’m proud of. 

"Thresh Okeniyi," a tall, dark-skinned, buff man with sweet brown eyes states in a deep powerful voice. Of course, we already know each other, him being Johanna’s boyfriend. I met him while I was training and introduced the two to each other. 

"Darius Taylor," a lanky, red-haired guy with a boyish grin says. 

"Gale Hawthorne," an officer who looks like he could be my brother declares. He practically is my brother. He has been my best friend since I was 11, and he is dating Madge too now. 

"Finnick Odair." Of course, I recognised the overly handsome sea-green-eyed Adonis with a supposedly charming smile. He is, after all, Annie's husband. He steps toward me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. I laugh while rolling my eyes at his antics, playfully slapping him on the arm. Anyone who has heard or seen Finnick talking or thinking about Annie, let alone be with her, can easily tell how tightly wrapped around her finger she has him. He went from a total player to a complete romantic as soon as he saw her. 

Finn fakes hurt before I usher him back to his line. 

"Peeta Mellark." Holy shit, it's Blue Eyes. He has blond, curly, floppy hair and a sharp, chiseled jaw that looks like it could cut glass. He is beautiful. He gives me a grin that I assume makes all the other girls' panties drop. Then he sends me a cocky, yeah-I-know-I'm-sexy wink. I scoff and roll my eyes at him. I'm not like other girls. I decide to hate Peeta Mellark, for what I can tell he always does with women just by his demeanor and looks. He is a clear womanizer, so I therefore want nothing – well as close to nothing as I can get when I'm working with him – to do with him.  

But then he tries to put the moves on me. Quite frankly, it doesn't do much for himself if he tries to get with someone as ugly and cold-hearted as I am; in fact, it makes him seem desperate. Mellark reaches out and gently grabs my hand, but before he can kiss it, I rotate my wrist and grab his, twisting his arm behind his back and raising it. I don't let go until he apologises. Then, for good measure, I flip him to the ground and crouch down, resting my ass on my heels. I lean down a bit, but say loudly enough for everyone to hear, "I am not like other girls. Don't treat me like them either, because you  _will_  look stupid, just like Mellark here." I reach my hand out to help him up, categorising the sharp tingles that flood from where our skin meets to my body's ordered hatred towards Mellark rejecting even his skin. He walks back to the line trying to subtly rub the spot where I twisted his arm. 

"What the fuck? You let Finn touch you," Mellark states incredulously. 

I roll my eyes and huff. "Yeah, that's because he is the husband of one of my best friends." I look to the next person, a tall, burly guy who resembles Mellark a bit, clearly dismissing Mellark. 

"Cato Ludwig. Also, aren't women supposed to be hot and sexy. Especially policewomen?" Fury blazes through me. 

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I forget to tell you? I am not here to fulfil any of your sexual desires either. In fact – here." I toss the USB to the officer who was one of two who watched the footage of Crane, and who I ended up befriending throughout my training – Beetee – who is manning the projector and computer. "Play this." I turn back to the boys while Beetee plugs the memory stick into the computer and sets up the projector. "This is exactly what happened to the last people who thought that they could force me to fulfil their sexual desires. Take a seat, boys." 

The officers look at me curiously before walking over to the projection screen on the side wall of the room and sitting on the benches surrounding it. The security camera film plays on the screen. We watch me fail at trying to walk in high heels. We watch Crane and his men break into the store. We watch them raid the cashier. We watch one of them take Rue. Thresh stiffens. We watch me volunteer for her. We watch Snow and his men begin touching me. We watch me letting my rage control my body. We watch me take the bullet for Mags. 

Of course, at the time, I hadn’t known that Rue was Thresh’s sister as I hadn’t met him yet, nor had I realised that Mags was Finnick’s grandmother, who we were supposed to meet for the first time the weekend after the incident.  

I feel nothing watching the video. I am so emotionally drained, that I cannot muster the slightest emotion toward what happened to me in that store. It's like a void inside me.  

We watch me knock the men unconscious. We watch me shoot Crane. We watch me tie them all up. We watch me yell at the police. We watch me check on Mags and Rue. We watch me talk to Chief Abernathy. 

The recording ends, and I hear nothing but silence. The screen goes dark and I catch the memory stick Beetee tosses to me before pocketing it. I move from my place behind the benches to in front of the screen to face the guys. My arms automatically cross in front of my chest. I look at the array of men before me with a mixture of expressions on their faces.  

Regret. Remorse. Fear. Admiration. Shock.  

Suddenly, Gale, Finnick and Thresh stand up and stalk over to me. I am surprised and confused by the clear anger and incredulity apparent in their eyes.  

“What?” I ask warily. 

Gale explodes first. As usual. “Katniss, what the fuck?!” 

Oh no. If Gale discards his nickname for me, ‘Catnip’, then he must be really serious.  

“ _What_?” I repeat. 

“Are you kidding? You don’t know? Mom told me what happened with Rue, and that a girl saved her, but I didn’t know the girl was  _you_!” Thresh shouts. I’m shocked. Thresh is usually the calm one, so if he is getting mad, then something must seriously be wrong. But what? 

“Katniss you never fucking told us that you almost got raped and then got shot!” Finnick yells. 

“Guys, relax, it’s not a big deal,” I say, trying to placate them. I think it makes it worse. 

“Not a big deal? Katniss, you are our  _best friend_ , and when you get hurt or something as terrible as this happens, you have to fucking  _tell us_! You  _did_  get hurt! You were fucking bleeding and were about to get fucking assaulted!” Gale screams. 

“We are thankful, Katniss,  _so bloody_ _thankful_ , for what you did for our families, but we care about you too! You’re part of our families too! We don’t want you hurt! And if you do get hurt, you better bloody fucking tell us!” Finnick scolds. 

Thresh sighs. “Please tell us you at least told the Jo, Madge and Annie.” 

I shake my head and rush to pacify them before they start yelling again. “Listen guys, I’ll explain everything later, okay?” No response. “ _Okay_?” 

They finally nod, grumbling. 

Shaking my head, I go back to bitch-mode as I turn to face the other officers. I put my hands on my hips. "Anyway, the leader of that group is Seneca Crane. Yes, I shot him in the dick, and yes, the same will happen to you if you insult me," I tell the officers around me. "Anyway, what are all of your specialty weapons?" 

"I know how to handle my trident," Finnick proclaims, raising his eyebrows suggestively. 

I outwardly cringe. "Why is everything you say an innuendo?" 

"It's what gets the ladies, along with my ridiculously delicious good looks and charm." 

"Uh huh, your ridiculously stupid methods are clearly working very well right now," I mutter, rolling my eyes.  

"Hey! It worked on my dearest Annie!" Finn defends. His eyes immediately soften at the thought of his wife, a lovestruck smile appearing on his face. 

"Yeah, yeah, Finn. We all know how you called me, begging me to bring ice-cream, chocolates and  _The Notebook_  because you were so upset over Annie rejecting you, and how I had to beg Annie to give you a chance." 

Finn pouts and I stick my tongue out at him. 

"Anway, what is everyone else's weapon of choice?" I ask. Thresh prefers daggers, Darius’s abilities with a pickaxe go above and beyond, Cato is handy with a sword, Gale is excellent at traps and good at archery, and Mellark simply says that his strengths lie in strength – that is, he is very strong, and can toss practically anything at enemies. 

I nod approvingly at their varied skill sets. 

"And yours, Katniss?" Darius asks me. 

"I'm okay with a bow," I reply, smirking at Gale, who I have always bested in the archery department. 

"Well, man, looks like you have a contender to go against for spot of best archer," Mellark teases Gale, clapping him on the back. Gale grins at me and I wink at him. 

"Okay, let's see what you guys have got. Impress me," I say, motioning for them to head to their stations to show me what they can do. Obviously, Atala would be helping and instructing them, but as she is absent today and I have no idea what I am doing, they'll have to take the reins. 

All of them go to each of their stations and set themselves up. I start at the one nearest to me, where Cato is dueling with air, fighting an imagined opponent with practiced skill. After 'winning' the battle, he goes on to the dummies to attack them, clean slices each time. 

Then it’s Darius, who presents an impressive routine with his pickaxe. 

Next is Thresh, aiming and throwing his daggers at targets, landing them straight in the bullseye each time with a clear natural skill. 

After Thresh is Finn, possessing his trident as though it were an extension of his body. When I sense him getting more focused, I carefully walk over, my hunter's tread expelling all noise, and pinch him at the waist, scaring him. 

“Argh! Fuck, Kitty Kat, you can’t sneak up on me like that!” he whines. I laugh at him, shaking my head, before moving on to Gale at the traps section.  

“Hey, Catnip,” he greets without looking up from where he is setting up a more complicated trap. I sit on the bench next to him. 

“Which one is this?” I ask him. I know almost all of his snares from when we hunted together. 

“The Deer ‘Sanctuary’. I am trying to study it so that I can work out how to modify it for runaway criminals,” Gale tells me. 

I grin at the enthusiasm in his voice. I clasp his shoulder and haul myself to my feet, and I am about to leave before he grasps my arm 

I raise my eyebrows at him questioningly. 

“Look, Catnip, we really need to talk about what happened. You, me, Finn, Thresh, and the girls.” 

I roll my eyes and turn to leave again but he stops me again.  

“Catnip, I’m being serious. You know we won’t be able to sleep properly if we’re worrying about you. Plus, when Thresh tells Jo, you know she’s going to come after you with her axe.” 

I crack a smile at the mention of Johanna. I nod to Gale. 

“Alright, fine. You tell Finn and Thresh to stay back for a bit after training and I’ll tell you guys about everything. I’ll tell Madge, Jo and Annie at my place. I think they’re already there with Annie and Prim anyway.” Gale nods and continues to work on his snare. I ruffle his hair affectionately and move on to the final station. 

Mellark. He bends over to lift up a weight and my eyes are unwillingly drawn to the round globes of his ass. I shift and blush, frustrated at myself for having this reaction to this obvious womanizer. I raise my eyes to see that he is holding a 250lbs weight over his shoulder. Once again, I find myself riveted by his toned body. The muscles in his back and biceps bulge enticingly.  

Suddenly, he turns around to meet my eyes and grins, showcasing a sexy dimple on the left side of his lush lips. His remarkable blue eyes twinkle at having caught me staring. 

“Enjoying the view?” he asks cockily. 

I scowl, hoping my flaming cheeks are perceived to stem from anger and not embarrassment. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mellark. I’ve been watching everyone here so that I can get an overall idea for your upcoming training courses.” Fuck, I really hope that sounded realistic.  

From his widening grin, I can tell that he knows I’m bluffing. I huff and stalk off, his sexy chuckles following me. Fuck, did I just call his chuckles sexy? Must be all of this stress of a new environment. Yeah. That’s it.  

Happy with myself for working that out, I go to the archery station, biting my lip as I look at all of the odd controls. I tap a circle on the screen labelled opponents, and I decide to have the simulated opponents having the other boys in my group’s weapons of choice, as well as guns. I press exit and set the difficulty to ‘Extra Hard’.It shows a loading page, and then a large tick appears in the center of the screen.  

To the left of the screen stand is a rack of bows and arrows.  _I wish I brought mine!_  The bow and arrow I’ve had since I was 5 years old and my father first started teaching me how to hunt feels like an extension of my arm.  

I sigh and choose the bow most similar in build and shape to that of my father’s bow. It feels odd in my hand, so I pick up the quiver and string an arrow. I walk over to the targets on the side, breathe in, shoot, and breathe out.  

Half-a-foot off the center. Titters echo behind me where a few of the boys have stopped training to watch my attempts. I roll my shoulders and empty the quiver at the targets, shooting the arrows to form two letters: F  U. I grin and, while looking at the officers, shoot at the target.  

Their jaws are on the floor. 

I smirk at them and enter the simulation area after walking past where my blind shot is dead center of the target between the ‘F’ and ‘U’, now feeling comfortable with the bow. The lights dim to blackness. The solitude is comforting. At least now I can drop my exaggerated bitchy persona. Light thudding echoes behind me and I turn around, arrow strung, and let go at the golden pixelated man running towards me with a trident. Straight through the heart. The simulation manages to throw it though, and I dodge it, before string another arrow and pointing it up at the figure running across a platform overhead. Golden pixels bounce around after my arrow makes contact with its eye. 

On it goes. I string arrows and expel them one after the other, shooting every simulation-figure that passes through the eye, between the eyes, through the heart, in the center of their temples, or even in their groins. 

I laugh and begin my own commentary. 

“Woah, Monday, 3 o’clock! Straight through your short ass dick!” I cheer as I imagine the figure hurtling towards me as being Monday, first day of the working week.  

Another figure runs toward me, swinging its sword horizontally. I grin at it. 

“Come and get me, bitch!” Just as the sword is about to touch my neck I lean back, my body making a line parallel to the floor as I balance on demi-pointe. “Bye, Felicia.” I dissolve into laughter as the tip of my arrow pierces the figure’s side.  

“Hey! You like *NSYNC?” I holler at the pickaxe-wielding pixelated person preparing to throw its weapon at me. It lets go and I backflip over it, shooting the golden figure while I’m in midair. “Bye, bye, bye!”  

I’m at the left-most end of the room when I spot another pixelated simulation on the top of the platform, tossing knives. 

“Why don’t we  _cut_  to the chase?” I joke. I perform a back handspring one-handed, as my bow occupies my other hand, to avoid the first three knives, a full twist layout to avoid the next five, and finally, a tour jeté to avoid the remaining four. By now I’ve reached the opposite end of the room. My bow is strung in no time and I aim the arrow directly at the simulation’s left eye. “It was  _knife_  knowing ya.”  

From the pauses between waves of attackers coming at me, it seems that four rounds have already gone past. I’m assuming that this final round – the fifth round, that is – will be the hardest.  

I’m proven right when the simulations begin coming in pair or trios, sometimes from different directions, and faster.  

“Game time.” I let out a short burst of laughter from the adrenaline pumping through me before quickly stringing my arrows and letting them fly continuously, twisting and turning, flipping and jumping.  

Before I know it, the simulation is over, but the room remains closed, presumably so that I can pick up the arrows scattered across the floors and imbedded in the walls.  

I shrug; might as well have some fun with it. 

I take my phone out of my other pocket, thankful for the button on it which prevented it from falling out. I scroll through my music, but finding nothing I like, testing out the playlist Johanna created for me and find a song whose title is similar to my preference for independency. 

One Woman Army, Porcelain Black. 

The music starts playing, and I have to admit, it’s good.  

I begin to stomp out a rhythm, adding claps and bangs on the walls, grinning helplessly as I move to the beat I’ve created. I bob my head; wave my arms; perform a series of jumps and flips, like aerials, straddle jumps, hitch kicks; all while collecting my arrows and popping them back into the quiver. I can sense the song ending and there is only on arrow left, near the dark entrance doors. I smirk and run towards it, letting my footsteps carry me up the side of the door and, using the pressure and momentum to flip me off it, finishing the sequence by twisting my hips to land in splits parallel to the doors picking up the final arrow and putting into the quiver with the other arrows while simultaneously bending by back leg and tilting my torso backwards so that the back of my head comes into contact with my toe. The music stops at the same time as the final arrow’s end reaches the bottom of the quiver and my head touches my big toe. 

I roll out of the splits onto my front and dissolve into laughter again, having almost forgotten how archery and gymnastics can work off my stress and make me feel so carefree.  

Standing up again, I grab my bow from where I left it in the corner of the room and walk towards the opening doors. I jump back though when I look up to see Squad 451 standing right outside the doors. 

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck, guys?” I gasp. I look to each person but none of them say anything. 

“Gale? What’s going on?” I demand. 

He seems to snap out of whatever daze he was in, but fumbles with his explanation. I huff at him, knowing that if he is stuttering, he is coming up with a lie. 

“We were just waiting for you to finish; we’re done with our workouts, and we usually go out for drinks, sometimes just meals or to hang out, after our training for the day is over,” Mellark pipes up.  

“Then why were you waiting for me to finish? I can lock up just fine on my own, you know,” I say. 

Mellark rolls his eyes as though I am the most frustrating person he has ever met. “You can come too.” 

I narrow my eyes suspiciously at him, then turn to look at the other boys to make sure Mellark’s being sincere. They’re all nodding in agreement. 

“Come on, Kitty Kat, it’ll be fun!” Finnick claims, tossing his arm around my shoulder. I look at Gale and he raises his eyebrows at me, silently communicating to me that it’s my choice. I look over to Thresh and he urges me to come too. 

“Please, Kit Kat?” he begs.  

I sigh. “Fine. But you guys go on ahead, I’ll meet you up later. I’ve got some things to do.”  

Gale cheers and high-fives Finnick and Thresh. I rarely ever go out, so that’s what is eliciting their enthused reactions, but I figure, hey, I’ll be seeing these people nearly everyday, might as well. 

But then the trainer in me mentally berates myself, having almost forgotten to check that my trainees had done a vital part of any training. “Wait!” All six men turn to face me curiously. “Have you guys all stretched after finishing your training?” I’m sure Atala would usually do this, but as she’s not here today, I should probably double-check that they’ve done it. A chorus of ‘Yes’s’ answer my question. 

Most of the flips I did in the archery station were more of a stretchy sort anyway, so I figure that I can skip the routine cooldown just for today. 

The guys all begin packing, and while they leave in a mass, I try to escape with them, hoping to avoid having to explain the whole situation to Thresh, Finnick and Gale, but they catch me before I can leave. 

Or, rather,  _he_  catches me before I can leave. 


	3. Truths Revealed Pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss is in trouble!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

“Not so fast, Everdeen,” the deep, sexy voice of Mellark call out, causing me to stiffen and freeze. I turn around to face him, arms crosses over my chest defensively.  

“What do you want?” I mutter. 

“Your friends told me they would be late because they needed to talk to you. I figured you trying to escape is not exactly how that’s supposed to happen,” he replies, flashing me a lazy, yet at the same sexy, grin. I groan and shoulder past him, wincing as I do so because  _damn_  that guy is muscled. 

I was hoping that he’d join the rest of Squad 451 after that, but I feel the heat of his body following me as I trudge over to where Thresh, Gale and Finnick sit on the benches. Tingles run down my spine at his presence, but once again I mark it down as feelings of wariness to the man I’m sure is a womanizer. My best friends’ heads are down low and bent towards each other as they converse on what seems to be a serious matter. They look up when Mellark and I are right in front of them, their eyes darting between us in confusion. 

“I just wanted to check when you guys would be coming to the bar. Should we wait up for you?” Mellark says by way of explanation. I turn to him in surprise, shocked that he didn’t tell them that I was trying to escape. I narrow my eyes and study him, trying to understand his intention. 

 _Did he just feel bad for me? Is that why he did that? God damnit! I hate pity! I hated having people come up to me at the funerals of my family with piteous faces, as though they thought my situation was the worst they had ever heard of, and that my life was sad and so was I. Neither of those things are true. I know_ _for a fact_ _that there are many people out there who have had it worse than me. And I am not sad, and neither is my life_ _. I am perfectly content with Prim and six of the best friends anyone_ _could ask for, better than I deserve. And plus... plus-_  

 _Woah._ _They’re so long. And curly. The light reflects off them so perfectly. They’re basically golden._ _How do th_ _ey_ _not get tangled_ _up_ _?_ _Girls would kill for some like them._  

My train of thought teetered off course as I became fixated on Mellark’s eyelashes. They are blond and so unbelievably long, curly and thick.  

A throat clearing snaps me from my reverie and my eyes move a millimeter from where they stare at Mellark’s perfect eyelashes to his gorgeous blue eyes, which are now twinkling in amusement. I scowl and flush, embarrassed to have been caught staring – no, scrutinizing... yeah, that’s it – at Mellark yet again, by the man himself no less.  

I cross my arms in front of my chest defensively as I glare down at the ground in front of the benches where Finnick, Thresh and Gale sit; unfortunately, not before my eyes meet Finnick’s, which hold an air of curiosity and plain suggestiveness that riles me.  

“Nah, man, it’s alright. You guys can go on without us, we’ll meet you there,” Finnick tells Mellark in response to his question. 

“Yeah, the whole story isn’t going exactly come pouring out of Kit Kat’s mouth. It’ll take a while,” Thresh chuckles. Even though I completely agree with his statement, I still huff petulantly. 

“’Kay, guys, see you then.” With one last wave, Mellark walks off.  

“Are you gonna look at us, or should we wait for you to finish attempting to shoot lasers through your eyes at the poor floor?” Gale calls out. I roll my eyes and turn my glare to him instead. 

“Great, now, we have some things to discuss,” Finnick says in a mock-serious tone. I snort. 

“What is this? A business meeting?” I grumble. 

“Mmm... Think of it more as an intervention of sorts,” Thresh returns. 

“What if I don’t want one?” I question petulantly.  

“It doesn’t matter. You’re getting one whether you like it, or not,” Gale says. I sigh. He is the only one as stubborn as I am. I know he won’t give up until I acquiesce. 

Thresh, sensing my lingering hesitation, speaks up. “Kit Kat, you do realize that if you don’t tell us or the girls, we will tell them, and then you’ll have three women coming after you, with one of them swinging an axe.” 

“Gah! Fine! ...But you guys better watch your backs for any trickster you may or may not have given an incentive to.” Even though I am nervously shifting from one foot to the other at the prospect of being vulnerable, even to those I trust the most, a mischievous smirk appears on my face at the thought of pranking them. 

Throughout my life, I had always pulled pranks on practically every familiar face, including teachers and students throughout my school years. With everything going on in my life and the stress of it all, conjuring ideas for pranks and carrying them out allowed my mind to focus on other things. The triumph of having a prank I created work, and then the looks of pure shock on my victims’ faces, helped me avoid breakdowns.  

Plus, it’s really freaking hilarious. 

Gale always helped me, he being the God of Traps, but I was always the one choosing people to pull my tricks on, carrying them out and coming up with ideas; Gale taught me the logistics of them. I guess this time he’ll just have to sit out and go from predator to prey.  

The man in question’s, and his two friends’, eyes have widened considerably at the prospect and I cover my mouth with my hand to muffle my amused snort. But once again Gale’s eyes harden with determination. 

“Noted. We will definitely keep a lookout, but you can only pull the prank if you agree to answer all of our questions truthfully and with sufficient detail. And hear us out when we tell you something. Deal?” he asks. I take a moment to think about it.  

 _I guess it’s fair. But, depending on how much they force me to reveal, the intensity of my prank will increase. Yeah, that works._ _Gah, who am I kidding? It’s going to be terrible for them no matter what._  

I shake Gale’s outstretched hand and give it a firm shake, and then walk over to where he sits in between Thresh and Finnick on the benches before turning around and sitting on the floor in front of him and leaning my back against his shins and resting my head in his laps. Finnick and Thresh move in closer and Finnick fiddles with my braid.  

I sigh. Might as well start now. “Okay. What do you want to know?” 

“Well, first of all, I just want to say thank you for saving my grandmother, Katniss. Especially since she’s the only blood relative I have left,” Finnick says, tugging lightly on my braid to force my attention to him so that I can see the pain and gratitude in his sea-green eyes. I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile before my focus turns to Thresh, who has started to speak. 

“And thank you so much for saving my little sister,” Thresh says, reaching down to grasp my hand. I squeeze his hand comfortingly before letting go. “Why did you, anyway?” 

I shrug. “I’m not sure.” I do have an idea though, and I promised to answer their questions honestly so I begin again, shaking my head ruefully. “No, that’s a lie. Rue... she reminded me of- of... Willow-” Even saying the name brings back so many memories: teaching her to swim in the lake in our woods, as well as the Salsa (Papa was Colombian, and he liked to teach his (then) two part-Latina-part-French daughters about his country’s culture) like Papa did for me. Even late nights spent giggling together over the dumbest things, simply enjoying each other’s company. “-and... God, I don’t know. It was either despite not saving Willow, or because I didn’t sav-” 

“Couldn’t,” Thresh cuts me off. I turn my head to look at him questioningly. “It wasn’t that you  _didn’t_  save your sister; you  _couldn’t_. There was nothing that you could have done to make the situation better.” I shake my head, opening my mouth to protest that I could have saved her; that I was too weak, and failed her, Papa, and myself... that it should have been me. But once again, I am interrupted, this time by Finnick. 

“Besides, even if you could have, and you did, who would be here for Prim and your mother?” he insists. That gives me pause. Who  _would_  have been here for them? What would have happened to them? My mind procures the thought that perhaps Willow could have done that, but I immediately dismiss it. I would have rolled over in my grave if I had forced her to grow up as quickly as I had to, to deal with Mama and eventually Prim all by herself. The thought crushes me. It eases the overwhelming guilt I have harbored since she was shot in front of me and bled to death in my arms before the ambulance could make it, but only by a little. 

I give Finnick a watery smile in thanks. 

Gale exhales quietly and gently grasps my shoulders to lift me up from against his legs before walking around and crouching in front of me. Finnick and Thresh mover over to the center to replace him and my back leans against one leg each of theirs.  

My childhood best friend takes both of hands in his and looks me dead in the eye to make sure I’m listening to every word he says.  

“Katniss, what you did for Rue and Mags is amazing. And we know, that if you’re in Squad 451-” Gale starts. 

“ _Wh_ _en_  you’re in Squad 451!” Thresh hollers. 

“-injuries will be inevitable. But as your best friends, you have to speak to us about these things. And I don’t mean just physical injuries, but emotional ones too. You can’t just bottle everything up and hope for the best, because at some point it will become too much and you’ll burst. Who knows what could happen then? Please, promise us, that you’ll tell us –  _all of us_  – when something happens. Even if it’s something as simple as Cato pissing you off, or something someone says, or anything. Okay?” Gale continues. 

I huff and rest my head back on top of Finnick and Thresh’s legs but reluctantly nod.  

“Okay, I think that's enough emotion for one day. Instead, why don’t we move onto more  _juicy_  topics,” Finnick says in a decidedly suggestive tone. I curiously tilt my head to look at him and just by the look in his eyes I know what he’s going to say. 

I quickly stand up and turn to face him, pointing my index finger threateningly at him. “Don’t even  _think_  about it, Finnick Odair,” I all but growl at him.  

“Oh, don’t worry Katniss,” he says and I relax a little. Maybe he won’t do it? “I won’t just  _think_  about it, I’ll  _voice it out loud_  too.” Spoke too soon. I barely catch Thresh and Gale’s confused glances out of the corners of my eyes. Finnick looks to the other two and by way of explanation says, “Our little Kitty Kat over here has the hots for our very own Peeta Mellark!” 

“Damn you, Odair!” I yell. 

“Oh, yes, I totally saw her swooning at every glance he gave her, too!” Thresh chips in. I spin around, feeling betrayed, to face him, only to find that he has a teasing grin matching Finnick’s on his face.  

“I did not!” I whine, stomping my foot like a 4-year-old being denied something.  

“Oh, please, Catnip. Even _I_  saw it! Someone’s got a cru-u-ush!” Gale singsongs the last sentence. 

All three of the idiots begin singing together. “Katniss and Peeta, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” 

“FUCK ALL OF YOU!” I yell, storming off to their cackles while flipping them off.  

“The bar is called the Hob, by the way!” Finnick calls out to my retreating form. 

“You better be there!” Thresh adds. 

“But not before you tell Madge, Jo, and Annie about everything!” Gale shouts as I leave the Training Centre. 

I shake my head, unable to prevent the grin from appearing on my face at my best friends’ antics, however annoying they are. 

I pull my helmet and bag out of my locker before leaving the building. I spot my beloved Harley-Davidson waiting by the entrance doors. Grinning, I swing myself on it and pull on my helmet before slipping the strap of my bag past my head to rest on my neck. I rev the engine thrice before speeding back home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shorter chapter, but I realised while I was typing out Truths Revealed Pt.2 that if I combined them the chapter would be too long, so...  
> THIS!  
> Remember to comment your thoughts and leave kudos.  
> xEverlark4Lifex


	4. Truths Revealed Pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss talks to Johanna, Madge and Annie. We find out what Peeta thinks of the new trainer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, or any of its characters; all credit goes to Suzanne Collins.

“I’m home!” I yell out as I kick off my shoes and lock the door to my house behind me. 

I walk upstairs, slower than usual, knowing that I have to tell my best friends about everything that’s been going on. I push open the door to my bedroom to find Prim, Jo, Madge and Annie giggling together as they watch another Frozen rerun.

“The only frozen heart around here is yours!” they yell together, Prim lisping out the words too, but they all laugh together when the male character is punched and thrown overboard.

“Hey, girls!” I greet, before rushing over to my baby sister and picking her up. “Hey there, Primmy!” I say, the wide smile I always get on my face whenever my sister is even mentioned widens when she gurgles and gives me an Eskimo kiss. 

“Kitty!” she giggles happily. Prim yawns and rubs her eyes tiredly but tries to appear awake, presumably to watch what little is left of her favourite movie.

"Alright, Little Duck, let's get you to bed." She pouts adorably but nods. I turn to take her to the room next door to mine. She stayed in my room previously, but while I worked in the lower level squadrons where we were called at random hours to deal with petty crimes, the incessant ringing of my phone would often wake her up.

Prim was happy with the agreement as she felt it made her a "big girl". Unfortunately, she wants to keep her "big girl" title and won't come back to my room. I suppose it's for the best though; at least now she may be able to forget about the times I myself have woken her up with screams from my nightmares – very soon she would start questioning it and I don't want her to have to know how fucked up her big sister really is.

Just as I'm turning to go into Prim's room, I catch Johanna's eye, and she gives me a look that tells me she knows that I'm nervous about something. Her expression practically screams, "Brainless, you had better tell us when you get back here what it is that you're so nervous about. Or I'll bring out my axe." 

 _She'll take it out in both situations_ , I think wryly. I can't imagine she will be too pleased at me having kept this from all of them. I sigh and put on a smile for my little sister and take her to her room.

As one would expect, the room is entirely pink with many stuffed animals. I lay her down in bed, grateful that Annie had already changed her into her nightdress. After tucking her in, I kiss her forehead. 

"Goodnight, Little Duck. I love you," I whisper.

"Wuv you too, Kitty," is her gentle reply right before she falls asleep. I smile and leave the room after turning off the lights. I close the doors as quietly as I can and sigh, resting my forehead against the door, already dreading what's to come next.

_You can do this, Everdeen. You already dealt with Finn, Gale and Thresh, and that wasn't so bad. You can do this._

Taking another steadying breath, I walk back into my room.

"Alright, Brainless, what's going on," Johanna demands as soon as I enter. 

"Yeah, Nissy, you've been acting really weird since you got home and we can tell something is up," Annie adds.

"I haven't been acting weird," I protest, attempting to stall for time to try and figure out how to explain everything and come out alive.

"Oh, please. First you take an inordinate amount of time on the stairs when usually you are rushing up them to see Prim, then you don't meet any of our eyes, and now you're just stalling," Madge cuts in.

"Glad to see that my best friends stalk me," I joke half-heartedly. Madge is clearly unimpressed.

"Spill," Johanna demands. I sigh and go for the same approach as I did with the Squad 451 members. I take out the USB and insert it into my computer before connecting the video to the television.

"Something happened about a year ago. It's easier to watch then explain because you know how terrible I am with words," I begin, Johanna snorting in agreement with my last statement. "Your boyfriends only saw this today at the Station because I had to prove to this misogynistic asshole that you can't mess with me, and this is what happens if you do. Please don't be loud – Prim's sleeping."

The video plays, and this time I notice that the quality of the recording is terrible, blurring my face, which I am thankful for as I hadn't been wearing Portia's mask then. This time I watch my friends' reactions.

At the part where the criminals break in, all three girls let out a gasp. At the point – I'm assuming – where Rue is chosen, followed by my volunteering, I catch all three girls with tears in their eyes; I’m shocked since I’ve only ever seen Johanna cry five times throughout the eight years of our relationship. As Crane and his men begin touching me Madge, Johanna and Annie all stiffen. When the recording shows me beginning to fight back Madge grabs Annie’s hand tightly and Johanna looks like she’s going to break something. The footage then shows me preventing the bullet from reaching Mags and Annie bursts into tears – she and Mags are very close. 

The video finishes and the only noise in the room is that of me ejecting the USB and turning off both my computer and the television. 

I turn back to my best friends. 

“When was this?” Johanna demands with a quiet fury. Thankfully she didn’t yell as I don’t want Prim to wake up. 

“The weekend before we went to visit Mags,” I whisper back. By now Madge is crying too. 

“You fucking bitch!” Johanna whisper-yells. She slaps me once before pulling me into a constricting hug, which soon joined by Annie and Madge. I hug all of them just as tightly.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Madge asks.

“I didn’t really think that it was that big of a deal, and with training for Panem Police, it was never at the forefront of my mind.” I can see Madge is about to speak up but I interrupt her. “I know now that I shouldn’t have kept this from you – Gale, Finn and Thresh made sure I understood. From now on there won’t be any secrets.”

“Oh, Katniss. You got hurt! You almost died! What would we have done without you? What would  _Prim_ have done without you?” Annie sobs.

“Hey, hey. Look at me. I’m perfectly fine, see?” I console, grasping her arms in an attempt to prove to her that I am alive and well. She nods half-heartedly. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay here.”

“Nuh-uh, KK, you are going to the Hob. Gale texted me to make sure that you’d be there, so you better go,” Madge states. 

“Are you sure? It’s not that big of a deal if I don’t go toda-shit. I promised them. I  _have_  to go,” I groan. They nod in understanding and give me one last hug each and I go over to Prim’s room to give her a kiss before leaving to the bar.

As I’m driving to the popular bar that I’ve been to a few times, I think about the people I will be working with for a long time.

My three best guy friends.

A polite redhead.

A misogynistic asshole.

An infuriating womanizer that inexplicably makes me frown and blush a lot.

Those bright blue eyes are the only things I think about on my way to the Hob.

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**Peeta’s POV**

Katniss Everdeen is certainly an enigma. 

Haymitch had told us this morning that he had a surprise for us, but none of us realised that it would be a trainer. Let alone that she would be female.

It’s not that having a female trainer or co-worker is a problem for us. It’s just that our previous history with female trainers and colleagues haven’t exactly been great. 

Glimmer Rambin had somehow succeeded in becoming both our trainer and fellow squad member. After about five minutes it was clear that she wasn’t capable. In training she would text, apply make-up or flirt with us. Most of the time she never even showed up. As a squad member she had nothing to offer; she wouldn’t even try to help.

Glimmer tried to sleep with everyone, including me. She had slept her way through the squadrons to Squad 451, and had no actual talent. She was pretty, I’ll give her that. Cato slept with her and she tried to get with the rest of us, especially me, and I almost acquiesced but refused after seeing just how bad she was. 

The few times she as forced to do something she would ruin everything. We asked her to question a family who had had their only child killed in one of our more recent investigations and she was callous and insensitive, resulting in the husband and wife’s tears. I ended up having to go over there to console them from where we were busy rooting out suspects. I came in just in time to hear her offering to “cheer up” the husband in a suggestive tone. 

She sickened me. She reminded me of someone I knew before the divorce.

My mother had been an abusive bitch to me, beating me black and blue since before I could walk. She had ruined women for me. All I saw was a manipulative, cold-hearted, emotionless person, and that was just my mother. So, I slept with a horrendous number of women, becoming a notorious player. They only proved that most women were like my mother.

Manipulative. Shallow. Careless. Flippant. Superficial. Cowardly. 

Only a few have proved me wrong, and they’re my very close friends.

My three best friends’ (Finnick, Gale and Thresh) girlfriends, my best friend and step-sister Delly Cartwright, Atala (our specialised trainer), and a few others.

Clove Fuhrman was scary and hot. She and Cato hit it off. That is, until we found that she was a murderer who thought that her position at Panem Police would prevent any investigation on her. She thought wrong. I had always thought her interest in knives was strange.

Which is why all of us, with the exception of Finnick, Gale and Thresh, were wary of a female worker. Haymitch told us that she was incredibly capable and he chose her himself. It was only slightly reassuring. 

However, Katniss has proven my ideas of most women wrong. 

She is the exact opposite of the women we’ve worked previously worked with.

She isn’t even remotely good-looking like our previous colleagues. She has pale, pasty skin; dry, thin lips permanently in an even thinner line; a heavily crooked nose; a heavily clefted chin; a weak jaw line; and plain brown eyes. 

Everdeen is not only different in appearance but personality and actions as well. The first words she spoke to us were to warn us not to treat her as an object but instead respect her. She outright states that we shouldn’t expect her to be all over us. 

For a second, I thought that maybe she was like all the other girls when she laughed as Finnick  put the moves on her. 

Angels would envy her laugh.

However, when I tried to do the same, even though I knew I wouldn’t sleep with her, she twisted my arm behind my back to the point and flipped me over, which was surprising in itself when you consider her small frame compared to my large and muscled one. I was offended to say the least, but relaxed when she explained that Finnick was Annie’s, who’s also one of her best friends’, husband.

When Cato stated his sexist views, I honestly though she was going to explode. From the flash of fear in Cato’s eyes and the “I am so fucked” look on his face, he did too. The few sentences she uttered were filled with a quiet outrage that shook with her intensity. It was actually really hot. 

And then she showed us the footage. 

Although the terrible quality of the video blurred her face, her proud stance made it obvious that the girl was Katniss. From beginning to end, I saw the opposite of my perception of women:

When she was struggling in high heels, the reason behind it clearly being to please Finnick’s grandmother, Mags; when she volunteered to replace Thresh’s little sister, Rue, even though she knew she would likely die; her defeated manner as the men began touching her –just the thought of it makes me want to wring their necks; the sudden change as the fighter in her came out; her mesmerizing ability to take down about thirty fully-grown, armed men with ease; her resourceful use of the highly heels she was struggling in earlier; her rushing to take the bullet for Mags, and even while bleeding from her shoulder, continuing to fight the men; her yelling at the police without fear of their authority; her disposition switching from angry to gentle as she comforts Mags and Rue, even going so far as to give the latter a flower matching her name.

Katniss’s compassion, bravery and selflessness are blatant even to Cato, albeit from a 10-minute video. 

Everyone was silent for a moment before suddenly Gale, Thresh and Finnick stomped over to her, the anger radiating off them in almost palpable waves. Fury surged through me, too, at the thought of what this seemingly amazing woman was willing to sacrifice and the circumstances that forced the situation. My three friends all began yelling at Katniss for not telling them about what happened while she stood with a confused look on her face.

“Guys, relax, it’s not a big deal,” she said. I let out an incredulous breath, shocked that she would think that such a thing is not a “big deal”. Clearly Gale, Finnick and Thresh felt the same. 

They yelled for a bit more, and finally Thresh, who is usually the calmest, sighed and asked if she had told Johanna, Madge, and Annie. I’m surprised that we have never met before since she seems as close to them as I am. To my astonishment, she hadn’t told them. Has she told anyone of what happened that day? Katniss rushed to console them and promised to explain everything later.

And then she turned to the rest of us and spoke in a bitchy tone, threatening us with the same fate as the gang of criminals if they said or did anything like the aforementioned gang. 

It was so strange how the same woman who, in the video, was compassionate and tactful was acting like such a bitch in Training. 

 Things got even weirder. I caught her ogling me and when I called her out on it her face remained strangely impassive except for the slightest twitch towards each other of her bushy eyebrows. It was unsettling. 

Katniss stalked off and went to the archery station and, after setting up the simulation, went to the targets. Her first shot was quite-a-ways off center. A few of us chuckled at her attempt after she spoke so coyly about it earlier. But, the next thing we knew, she had shot arrows consecutively and quickly at the target, creating two distinct letters: F  U. Then, while looking at us she shot the arrow dead center and strutted away from our slack-jawed expressions. 

She entered the simulation room and the two-way special glass – altered to prevent damage from arrows or other things – closed behind her. All of us walked over to it to see how she would do and stood in front of the two-way glass doors while doing our post-training stretches. 

Katniss’s entire body relaxed and the simulation started up. She hit perfect shots each time with incredible agility and skill. It’s surprisingly...sexy. After a while she started her own run-along dialogue filled with cheesy adorable jokes, showcasing fantastic flexibility and gymnastics abilities. My jaw was on the floor and all of us had stopped to stare at Katniss. 

The simulation ended and she played music from her phone that easily travelled through the altered glass. She clapped and stomped out a rhythm alongside the music and did flips and jumps of all sorts to collect the arrows. Out of nowhere she ran towards the glass and we all jumped back reflexively even though there was no harm that could be caused to us; she ran up the doors and flipped off them before landing in splits at the same time as the last note of the song sounds.

Her melodic laughter that I am already addicted to echoed and all of us remained in a trance.

When I lied and told her we were waiting for her to go to the Hob she thought we had waited for her to lock up. She seemed suspicious of me.

Then she tried to leave but I stopped her before she could because I knew of Thresh, Finnick and Gale’s plans to speak with her. I followed her to them but for some reason felt the need to save her and so I lied. She glared at me but it faded away as she stared at me.

From what has happened today, these are things I have used to describe her.

Compassionate and bitchy. Indifferent and passionate. Caring and disregarding. Eager to please yet independent.

Katniss Everdeen in a walking contradiction. 

I sigh and turn back to the conversation. It’s just me, Darius and Cato.

“I think she’s an ugly bitch,” Cato states outright. I smirk at the thought of what Katniss would do if she heard.

“She’s alright, I guess,” Darius says. They both look at me to find out my thoughts of Katniss but I just shrug non-committedly, still unsure myself.

And there’s something else strange about her. Her face is constantly stoic and unnervingly impassive to the point where it is unnatural. 

We talk for a while longer when Thresh, Finnick and Gale walk in looking slightly less tense than they did before I left them with Katniss. They sit down heavily and signal the bartender for their usual drinks. 

“You guys look like depressed. What happened in there?” I ask, noting their somber expressions.

Gale sighs and leans forward to put his head in his hands, Thresh groans and Finnick takes a swig of his beer that just got placed in front of him.

I chuckle. “I take it that it went good, then?” I ask sarcastically. All three men fix glares on me but eventually Gale sighs.

“It went about as well as we could have hoped, I guess,” he says.

“Yeah, considering how stubborn she is, she agreed pretty easily,” Thresh adds.

“We just don’t know whether to be thankful or not for Katniss’s nobility,” Finnick finishes.

“What do you mean?” I ask, confused as to what they’re talking about. Darius and Cato have equally confused looks.

“Didn’t she volunteer for your sister, and take the bullet for your grandmother,” Darius begins, looking at Thresh and Finnick respectively, “-because they were your family.”

“No,” Thresh says, letting out a bark of mirthless laughter. “Katniss, along with the rest of us, were supposed to meet Mags the weekend after that happened. And Katniss and I only met each other while I was wondering about the training academy, so she hadn’t known Rue then.”

“She volunteered to get assaulted instead of and took a bullet for two complete strangers,” Finnick finishes. My eyes widen in shock. 

I guess I can add noble to the list of words I use to try and figure Katniss out. 

“Now we don’t know if we should be grateful that she saved their lives or pissed that she never told anyone. God, who am I kidding? We’re both!” Gale complains. 

“Where  _is_  Katniss?” I ask.

“She has to show the video and talk to Madge, Annie and Jo,” he explains. “Listen, guys, I know Katniss may come off as prickly at first, but I promise you, once she trusts you enough, she is truly wonderful.”

“Yeah right,” Cato snorts, earning the glare of the rest of us. 

“Who knows, Cato, she might end up “truly wonderful” and then you’ll be all over her,” I joke, but it only attracts curious stares from the policemen. I inwardly groan at the thought that they think I have some kind of crush on Katniss.

Because I don’t.

Right?

Speaking of, Katniss herself walks in, still in her sweat-soaked training clothes. Once again, I am shocked. Not because she’s not wearing tight or revealing clothes like the other girls here – I didn’t expect her to – but she didn’t even bother to change out of her training clothes. Yet the stench of sweat can’t cover the wonderful, earthy scent that I’m assuming is all Katniss. 

For fuck’s sake, even her smells are contradicting.

She bounces onto the remaining empty sofa amongst our reserved circle of three and puts one leg up, setting her... Holy fuck, is that a Harley-Davidson helmet?! 

“What are we talking about?” she asks.

“Did you tell the girls?” Gale says instead of answering.

Katniss sighs. “Yes.”

“And?” I pipe up.

She turns to glare at me but replies. “Better than these three,” she motions to Finnick, Gale and Thresh, whose eyebrows have shot up considerably.

“Seriously?” Thresh questions.

Rolling her eyes and huffing, Katniss says, “Yes. Thankfully I Prim had just fallen sleep, so they had to somehow restrain themselves. Thank God for siblings.” I chuckle and her eyes shoot to me again, narrowing with suspicion and I raise my hands out in front of me to tell her I didn’t mean anything by it.

And then her bullet wound catches my eye where it shines proudly from the cut-out hole in her sweater. I know from experience, although all most of my scars have faded, that when someone requires stitches, doctors make them painstakingly neat so that patients don’t become too self-conscious of their scars. Katniss’s, however, is messy yet has healed well, as though the doctor who stitched her up was excellent and able to heal it well, but wasn’t too bothered with making it look appealing.

“Uh, Katniss?” I speak out.

She once again looks back at me and scrutinizes me in a way that makes me feel like she has some kind of emotional x-ray vision. “Yes?”

“Um...I, uh...” Fucking shit. I need to word this so that it doesn’t offend her yet she still understands what I’m trying to ask, but my famous wordsmith abilities are being turned to mush simply by her presence. “Your, uh... Your scar? You, ah, you’ve done really brave, admirable things to get it, but...um...what I’m trying to say...is...did something happen while it was getting stitched?” I try.

There is that slight twitch again, as though she wants to scowl but is desperately trying to refrain from doing so. “Spit it out, Mellark.” Dear God, I love the way she says my name...well my surname, but still mine. “Don’t bother censoring anything, I can guarantee I have heard worse than whatever you’re about to say.” That last statement causes confusion and anger inside me. What worse things did she have to hear? And which asshole?

I internally shake my head to get rid of the thoughts as Katniss is still staring at me expectantly. I huff, determined to do exactly as she says and just say it. “Your scar. I’m assuming they’re stitches?” I begin, pausing to wait for her nod. Once I receive it, I continue. “Don’t the doctors or paramedics or whoever did them for you usually try to stitch them really neatly? Yours are kinda squiggly.”

Her eyebrows do the twitch thing again as she looks down at her scar. In that moment, I freak out internally.  _Shit. What if she feels self-conscious about it now? What if_ _it_ _loses all the importance that lets her show it off with pride, because she now deems it ugly in her mind?_ My worrying thoughts diminish when she shrugs, sits back to lean back on the sofa and turns her penetrating stare back on me.

“I don’t know. I guess when I was stitching it up I didn’t really bother with trying to make it look pretty. I just wanted to get the questioning with Haymitch over and done with so that I could go back to my sister,” she says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

My eyebrows shoot up, impressed. “You healed your own wound?”

“Well, yeah. I suppose I did pick up something useful from my mother.”

I catch Katniss, Gale, Finnick and Thresh all exchanging knowing glances with each other. 

I want to ask about it, but I feel like that line of conversation will only lead to Katniss murdering me. Physically or with her eyes, I’m not sure which, but I am sure that I don’t want to be on the receiving end of either.

“So, do you want to know what all of our roles in the Squad are? From what we’ve seen, and what Haymitch has said about you, I don’t doubt that you’ll make it, so isn’t it better to learn how we work now, rather than later on?” I suggest instead.

To my surprise, Katniss put the foot that was resting on the sofa down on the floor, places her forearms on her knees and leans forward towards me, almost conspiratorially. 

“You don’t need to tell me.” At my clear confusion she explains further. “I already know,” she reverts to her previous position, her tone laced with amusement like the wink she gives me after her words.

A wink that inexplicably sets my blood aflame.

But I try not to let it show. “Oh, really?” I ask as amusedly as I can. At her coy nod, I carry on. “Okay then. Prove it,” I say cockily. There’s no way she can figure it out; she’s only known half of us for less than a day, and has never seen any of us during on-duty time. There’s no way.

Katniss closes her eyes and for a second, I think I have her but then she begins speaking.

“Gale can set traps for whenever the place of a crime that will occur soon to capture them and can track any runaway criminals or victims that have disappeared,” she begins and looks to the person in question for confirmation. He nods and she continues. 

“Finnick, being the nosey prick that he is-,” Katniss says, looking at Finnick who grins good-naturedly. “-can somehow manage to get all of the background information on anyone, even those hidden so far in the recesses of the Internet or files or wherever they are. He can scan that information and pick out the pieces that are vital to choosing suspects and discovering links between motives or even links between people that may have assisted the crime.” Finnick nods.

“Thresh, ever so intimidating and loyal, is wondrously capable of protecting anyone or anything, be it evidence, victims, witnesses, during a crime or not. He is usually on the front-line so that he can use his size to intimidate criminals and so that he can protect anything or anyone that requires it before any harm can come to them.” Thresh lazily salutes her.

I am not that impressed since these guys are her best friends and it doesn’t take much skill to know what your best friends do at work. I tell her so and she raises one eyebrow at me.

She’s still looking at me, challenging me to make another comment as she carries on.

“Cato. His first response to anything is anger and brutality. Not exactly a good quality to possess, however it comes very useful when having to deal with violent criminals to restrain until sedatives can be found. He is able to break through barricaded doors to reach a crime, vital evidence, or a thing of importance,” I catch Cato’s eyes widening in my peripheral, but continue to face Katniss, refusing to back down from her gaze. “He is also filthy rich. You can tell easily by the things he does and how he acts. He has ordered several expensive beers, which are also fairly strong, and he isn’t vomiting it all over the floor; that tells me that he must have head them several times before, and has had the money for them, yet is still capable of buying equally expensive clothes, equipment, etc., so he isn’t spending all of his money on alcohol. You also tell he is rich because of how he acts. He treats women like objects and everyone, really, as though they’re beneath him because in his eyes, they are. He has always been so used to having everything handed to him on a diamond platter and getting away with treating everyone like shit because of his position of authority.”

Woah.

“Darius has excellent connections and is helpful for discovering connections between crimes, areas of crimes, criminals, can get them into places easily. His posture is constantly perfect and he is always very polite and formal. Obviously all this has been rooted into him from a very young age, which means that he has attended many business meetings and dinners with his family or otherwise; thus, the connections. Darius’s strict upbringing leads him to be overly carefree and indulgent as his freedom has only come now. In fact, he started playing soccer recently. He has this constant twitch in his right foot in a kicking motion.”

Holy shit. Darius has been taking lessons for the past week.

“And finally, Mellark,” Katniss says. I gulp, nervous for what she might know about me. “You’re a sweet-talker; it’s how you get girls, it’s a major part of your role in Squad 451. You lead questionings because you know the right way to talk to someone depending on their emotions about the event. You can easily extricate the necessary information without force and simply with your words. You have the build to be a wrestler. You bake; a lot. You have a lingering smell of cinnamon and dill, and you had flour on your workout clothes and you have an icing stain on your shirt now. You’re an artist, too. Your fingers are calloused from excessive use of a pencil and/or paintbrush.” She leans close to me, her guarded smirk devilish. “You’re especially adept at getting into women’s panties; you, Mellark, are an infuriating, womanizing, asshole.” 

What. The. Fuck. 

Everything Katniss just said is true. Everything.

She leans over, picks up my Heineken can, lifts it above her head which tilts back to enable her mouth to chug down a lot of my drink. But I’m not focused about that.

I’m fascinated with the sight of the liquid pouring down her throat without touching her lips.

My cock twitches.

Katniss struts off, her long braid swinging behind her.

What. In the actual. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think?  
> Peeta seems to be attracted to Katniss for reasons he can't fathom; and vice versa.  
> Katniss will explain her reasons for her mask later on in the story, I promise you!  
> Let me know your thoughts on this chapter.  
> xEverlark4Lifex


	5. First Day Pt.1

**Katniss’s POV**  

I groan as my alarm blares right into my ear, rousing me from my nightmare-filled sleep. Like usual, I flip off the sunshine flowing in through the windows, before twisting my body so that I can sloppily turn it off and sit up, arching my back and yawning. While I begin to untangle the sheets from where my spasming body messily coiled them, the memories from last night flood back to me.  

The deduction skills are something that I have developed over the years. It’s always safer to know who you are dealing with, and assumptions tended to be wrong, so I learnt to look for certain things to better prepare myself. That’s me. Always trying to protect myself in any way possible.  

Their faces! The shock on them would have had me in peals if I wasn’t so focused on Mellark. 

Mellark.  

Now the later part of the whole deduction scenario comes to mind and my face immediately heats up. I instantly drop the sheets and bury my warm face in my hands instead. 

 _Oh my God!_  I think as I flop back down on my bed. I cannot believe that I was so forward and confident and...and... _flirty_  with Mellark. Who  _am_  I? I have never allowed myself to act so unadulteratedly to or in front of anyone except Prim – and keep in mind that was because she is the only person I’m certain I love. And there I was, winking, leaning towards him, giving knowledge that basically had me admitting that I had been paying more attention to him than anyone else – talking about the way he smells, the callouses on his fingers, his build – and chugging down his drink like I owned the damn thing.  

The canned drink that  _he_  had drank from; the rim that  _his lips_  had touched; the drink that must have had his throat bobbing as he swallowed. 

No, no, no, no! Bad girl, Katniss. Remember, he just uses girls and discards them like trash, disregarding their feelings. 

 _Why_  is he having this effect on me? 

I sigh and get up, making my bed and changing into another set of sweats. They’re comfortable as hell but not so much when I get sweaty. Then it just feels like I have fucking leeches suctioned onto my body.  

I’m surprised that Prim hasn’t already come rushing into my room to wake me up with her delicate pattering feet and melodic giggles. I creep into her room, singing  _Mama Said_ to wake her up, finding her curled up in the foetal position around her stuffed yellow duck that used to belong to Willow.  _Mama Said_  was a song Daddy had always sung to us every night before bed. Prim deserves all the pieces of her family she can get, having never known who they were or what they were like. 

 _When mama said that it was okay_    
_Mama said that_ _it_ _was quite alright_    
_Our kind of people had a bed for the night_    
_And it was okay_    
_Mama told us that we were good kids_    
_And daddy told us never listen to the ones_    
_Pointing nasty fingers and making fun_    
_'Cause_ _we were good kids_  

Prim stirs, her long blonde lashes fluttering. 

 _Remember asking both my mom and dad_    
_Why we never travelled to exotic lands_    
_We only ever really visit' friends_    
_Nothing to tell when the summer ends_    
_We never really went buying clothes_    
_Folks were passing the stuff in plenty loads_    
_New shoes once a year and then_    
_Out to play ball so we could ruin them_  

I sit next to her and gently brush the hair away from her head. 

 _When mama said that is was okay_    
_Mama said that it was quite alright_    
_Our kind of people had a bed for the night_    
_And it was okay_    
_Mama told us we were good kids_    
_And daddy told us never listen to the ones_    
_Pointing nasty fingers and making fun_    
_'Cause_ _we were good kids_  

Her eyes finally open, the bright blue eyes dancing as she looks up at me. 

 _Don't get me wrong I didn't have it bad_    
_I got enough_ _lovin_ _' from my mom and dad_    
_But I don't think they really understood_    
_When I said that I wanted to deal in Hollywood_    
_I told I might be singing on TV_    
_The other kids were calling me a wannabe_    
_The older kids they started bugging me_  

She giggles and reaches up for me, grabbing my braid with one hand, her duck in the other, as I haul her onto my lap and gently bounce her up and down. 

 _But now they're all standing right in front of me (ha ha)_    
_Mama said that is was okay_    
_Mama said that it was quite alright_    
_Our kind of people had a bed for the night_    
_And it was okay_    
_Mama told us we were good kids_    
_And daddy told us never listen to the ones_    
_Pointing nasty fingers and making fun_  

I get up and place one hand underneath her hips and use the other to switch Prim’s grasp from my braid to my hand, swinging across the room in a fast waltz. 

 _'Cause_ _we were good kids_    
_I know which place I'm from_    
_I know my home_    
_When I'm in doubt and struggling_    
_That's where I'll go_    
_And old friend can give advice_    
_When new friends only know the half story_    
_That's why I always keep them tight_    
_And why I'm okay_    
_I said I'm okay_    
_You know what my mama said?_  

Prim squeals as I dip her dramatically and nuzzle her nose before setting her down to twirl her around. 

 _You know what she told me?_    
_Mama said that is was okay_    
_Mama said that it was quite alright_    
_Our kind of people had a bed for the night_    
_And it was okay_    
_Mama told us that we were good kids_    
_And daddy told us never listen to the ones_    
_Pointing nasty fingers and making fun_  

I lead her over to the wardrobe to let her pick out her clothes for today – my attempt of getting her to be more independent. She dives straight into it and picks out a white shirt with the words “Little Miss Sunshine” pasted underneath a bright yellow sun with shades cooler than I’ll ever be, and a dark blue denim skirt. 

Three years old and already has far better fashion sense than I do. 

 _'Cause_ _we were good kids_    
_My mama said that is was okay_    
_Babada_ _baba_    
_Babada_ _baba_    
_Babada_ _baba_    
_My mama said that is was okay_    
_Babada_ _baba_    
_Babada_ _baba_    
_Babada_ _baba_    
_My mama said that is was okay_  

I finish softly as I re-teach Prim how to do the button on her jean skirt and wait for her to put on her shoes and leave her little duck behind so that my Little Duck can come for breakfast. 

“Race you down, Kitty!” she chirps, before rushing down the stairs. 

“What?! No fair! Get back here, you little cheater!” I tease, before following her at a much slower pace.  

When I reach the bottom, I put my hands on my knees and begin panting heavily, as though it was so arduous to try and beat her. Although, believe me, it  _was_  arduous chasing after her before. At least it helped me get back in shape. 

“Haha! I won!” Prim cheers, doing a little jig. I grin.  

“Whew. It looks like you did, Little Duck!” 

“Quack!” she echoes, just like Willow did. But Prim doesn’t know that. I guess it just runs throughout the Everdeen sisters. My attention swings back to Prim once more when her eyes suddenly raise in cuteness levels to the combination of doe-eyes and puppy dog ones multiplied by about a million, a golden twinkle flashing mischievously. My curiosity piques. “So... Since I won the race... I get a Moonie, right?” 

Moonies are what she calls Moon Pies – a favourite family treat, even when Mama, Daddy and Willow were still alive. I narrow my eyes playfully at her at pretend to think about it for a second.  

“Pretty, pretty, pretty please? With sprinkles and cherries and sparkles and glitter and ice cream and chocolate and everything else on top?” she pleads, her arms widening with each extra topping she adds as though to entice me with its size.  

I laugh and tug lightly on both of her messy braids. There is enough time to get her Moon Pie, drive Prim over to Madge’s place and reach Panem Police. “Of course, Ducky.” 

“Yay!” she squeals, jumping up and down.  

“Tell you what, you can have those really special ones from that bakery that Jo-Jo's been raving about.” I can barely cook a decent meal, let alone bake, and the box of Moon Pies Johanna had brought from the nearby bakery were ‘abso-fucking-lutely mouth-orgasm-giving-ly delicious', according to her. Honestly, after trying them, I completely agree. Only Prim and I are allowed to call Johanna ‘Jo-Jo’. Not even Thresh is, which I use as major teasing ammo.  

Prim and I play ‘Floor is Lava’ across the mats to reach the dining table, and while she brushes her hair I make two bacon omelettes for us; thankfully, I didn’t burn the whole house down.  

Katniss: 75   Smoke Detector: 124 

I am catching up. And – clearly – have a very fun-filled, interesting life. 

“So, what do you plan on doing with Madge today?” I ask Prim as I quickly scarf down my food before washing my hands and beginning to braid her hair. 

She swallows before answering. “We’re going to play with Barbies and watch Frozen and do each other’s hair and play in her pool and have milkshakes!”  

I grin at her enthusiasm and tug lightly on the first braid that I have just completed. “And do you remember what else you have to do?” 

She sighs and dutifully recites, “Say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and be a good girl.” 

“Just like you always are!” I tease, tying the bow on her final braid and leaning around to kiss her cheek. 

“I finished, Kitty! Please may I have my Moonie now?” Prim asks. I laugh and nod, pulling out the M’s bakery box and pulling out two of the mint-chocolate flavoured moon pies that Johanna brought for us, since Prim and I  _love_  mint chocolate.  

I heat them both up slightly in the microwave before placing Prim’s in her plate and just gobbling mine up, barely holding in my moan as soon as it hits my taste buds. 

Once Prim finishes her Moon Pie, I put on my trainers and grab my keys, workout bag and our helmets – a miniature pink one for Prim - from their positions by the front door. We exit the house and I give Prim her helmet to put on while I lock the door, helping her tighten the straps before doing the same for myself.  

I lift Prim up on to Hunter – yes, that’s the name of my Harley-Davidson – and make sure she’s secure. Then I pull myself up behind her and place my hands over where hers rest on the handles before I rev the engine and we quickly drive over to Madge’s house. 

kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkp 

Just as we pull up, the front door opens and Gale walks out with his hair messy and his workout shirt backwards as Madge’s giggles echo from behind him, and I laugh at my friends. Prim hugs me and gives me a kiss before skipping into Madge’s house, waving hello to Gale on the way, making him flush bright red.  

“Thanks for doing this, Madge,” I call out.  

She walks out, hand-in-hand with Prim, and replies, “No problem, KK! You know I would do anything for you and this little munchkin right here!” 

Smiling, I nod at her and wave one more goodbye to Prim before turning my attention to a bright-red Gale. 

I fold my arms and lean against Hunter’s handlebars, smirking at him. “Gale!” I mock-gasp, “Doing a walk of shame in front of a three-year-old? Really? Is this what you have come to? Hazelle would be so proud!” I joke, referring to his mother, who has always been like another one for me, and is really big on treating women respectfully. 

Oh, if only she could see Mellark. 

Damnit! Not again! 

Gale groans, embarrassed. “Fuck off, Catnip. And I’ll have you know, that it can’t really be called the ‘walk of  _shame_ ’ if our fuc-” 

“No, thank you. I’m going to stop you right there. You have spent  _way_  too much time with Jo-Jo – I  _really_  don’t need to know  _just_  how shameful your walk is,” I exclaim, putting my hand up right in front of his face, chuckling when he shoves it aside.  

He sticks his tongue out at me and I return the sentiment. I look around for his SUV but it’s nowhere in sight. Gale notices my wondering gaze and explains, rubbing the back of his neck. “Madge came to pick me up from The Hob, and well – you know. One thing led to another, and-” 

“And now you don’t have a ride,” I finish. He nods sheepishly. “Hop on.” 

His head darts up. “Really? You’re letting me ride on Hunter? Sweet!” He doesn’t even hesitate to jump up behind me, shoving me forward in the process. 

“Oof! Damn, Gale. There’s little to no space for me! You’re getting fat,” I tease. 

“Oi! That’s not what Madge said last night when I was...” I rev my engine to drown out whatever next he planned on saying and take off with a sharp lurch that knocks Gale backwards. Much to my amusement. 

kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkp 

Gale and I walk into the Training Room and find only two others there – Thresh and Darius. It’s only 9:48 a.m., and the time set for the beginning of Training is 10a.m., so while Gale, Thresh and Darius lounge around I create a mental inventory of all the equipment. 

“How are your workouts, usually?” I ask the men. 

“Oh, God,  _awful_!” Gale complains. 

I raise a brow and Thresh explains. “Our history with trainers isn’t the best – Glimmer couldn’t do shit and Clove ended up in jail.” And there goes my other eyebrow.  

“What about the actual workouts with the trainers who were actually decent?” I ask. 

This time Darius answers. “Clove got us to do what she needed by fear, and all of our other workouts have been too minimal or just as overdone as Clove made us do.” 

I nod and think for a moment. The majority of their workouts have been planned, but we’ll have to see how it goes. 

I create notes on Post-Its and stick them at each of the muscle stations while the others file in, and by 9:57 everyone is here except for Mellark.  

“I’m giving Mellark five minutes before we start without him. When he gets here he can catch up,” I announce. “In the meantime, get your water bottles and towels and set up.” Even after we’ve done that, Mellark hasn’t shown up. I roll my eyes and turn to the other Squad members.  

“He isn’t here yet, but we’re gonna start now. Twenty laps around this place – if you cut corners, I’ll cut you, and you can’t get away with doing less than the amount I’ve asked because we’re doing the jog together. I repeat,  _together_. I will lead and you all have to keep up. Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth – if you don’t, you’ll lose your voices and your throats will burn; and while I’d like nothing more than silence, I doubt that’s what you want. This isn’t a race, it’s a warm up. Let’s go.” 

We begin jogging together around the entire up-scale gymnasium, and the slight burn in my legs thrills me. I had arranged us so that we would all run the same length while still being close together, and everyone has dutifully stayed together as we jog at a steady pace.  

“Halfway mark, everyone! Keep going!” I shout. The others’ panting wavers as they struggle to reply without breaking their breathing pattern.  

We are at fifteen laps when Mellark finally decides to join us. He looks at us curiously and sits down, leisurely setting everything up and taking time to re-tie his laces and do whatever else he needs. He goes to join us but I yell out at him to stop before he can. 

“Sit down, Mellark! I’ll deal with you when we’re done!” I call out. He nods, confused, before doing as I say. Thank fuck for that. 

We finish our laps and I send the boys off towards their water bottles and towels while I walk over to Mellark, talking all the while. 

“I am honoured, Mr. Mellark, that you were able to cut time away in your seemingly filled schedule to come to your  _mandatory_  workout session. We could get you some top-of-the-line champagne if it pleases your highness. Maybe some for your chauffeur, too?” I say sarcastically, pseudo-sweetness icing my tone. Speaking of icing, Mellark has some on his white shirt that stretches tightly over his broad shoulders. I hold my hand up to stop his protests. “You’ve been baking. I don’t care if it’s a hobby, if you’re baking something for someone, or if it was a means to escape boredom – as long as you come here on time. Next time you’re late, I’ll use you as target practice,” I growl, thankful for my mask disguising my amused smile at his audible gulp. I have to admit, I’m impressed by how well he tries to play the gulp off. 

“Sure. Your wish is my command, my queen,” he says, grinning cockily as he bows. 

“Good. I ‘wish’ that you do thirty laps around this place. Ten more than the rest of us did for being late,” I say. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Mellark says, flashing me another charming smile. I grind my teeth and narrow my eyes, annoyed that I didn’t get to him. “But I wouldn’t mind some company, m’lady,” he adds, wagging his eyebrows as I gawk incredulously. I spin over to the other guys, hoping that one of them would take him up on the offer, but they all stubbornly shake their heads. I should have known; hoping is for suckers, anyway. I stare all of them down, betrayed, before walking over to the corner of the gym nearest to the entrance doors.  

I look over and Mellark is still sitting on the benches, looking at me bewildered. “Well come on then, my king,” I snark, only receiving Mellark flashing me a wide smile in answer. I huff.  

We begin running, and the burning in my thighs is there right off the bat. I am panting by the tenth lap, but I look over at Mellark who is right by my side and almost growl frustratedly when I find him looking perfectly fine.  

Then an idea pops into my head and I smirk, looking over at Mellark. 

It’s obvious that he is a talker, so I figure that if I can get him talking now then any dust he intakes will make his throat burn and he’ll shut up! 

Trust me, this doesn’t make me evil.  

It just makes me happy. 

“So, what were you baking?” I pant out. Mellark turns to me and his eyes brighten as he begins babbling on about some three-tiered red velvet cake that he was decorating with cherry blossoms for some elderly couple who met under a cherry blossom tree. Apparently, it was their fiftieth anniversary or something. 

Not that I was listening or paying attention. 

By the twenty-third lap, I’m really starting to regret my idea. He just won’t shut up, and I’m getting a headache! 

“-I mean, I don’t really get it. How can someone expect twelve dozen cupcakes to be iced with the most intricate decoration ever, overnight! Actually, funny story – well it’s not really funny – but this one time...” 

Honestly, by now, I think he’s figured out what I was trying to do, and now is just speaking nonsense to piss me off. I look over at him and find him already watching me with laughter in his twinkling blue eyes. 

I roll my eyes and shove him lightly to the side, before racing ahead. 

“Oi! What was that for?” he yells, his tone decidedly amused.  

“What are you doing back there?! Pick up the pace! Keep up, Mellark!” I return, smirking. “Or maybe, you aren’t a fan of chasing girls. You’re that guy, huh?” 

I don’t get an answer, and I slow back down to a steady jog. I jump when I hear his deep, rumbling voice whisper into my ear. “I don’t know, Everdeen. Are  _you_  willing to chase a guy?” he murmurs before he dashes ahead, his breathy chuckles echoing behind me.  

“Why you little-” I begin, rushing after him. I manage to catch up to him, and now, by some unspoken agreement, we’re racing to complete the last seven laps. “You’re going down, Mellark!” 

“I don’t think so, Everdeen.” 

We are pretty evenly matched, but with my lighter frame, I am faster. I sprint the last three laps and finish before he does. My hands are on my knees as I pant, and eventually Mellark joins me.  

“Finally found a girl you couldn’t keep up with, Mellark?” I taunt. 

He looks at me and grins. “No, but I’m a nice guy. I always finish last, and let girls have their pleasure before me,” he returns, his eyebrows wagging once again. 

I can’t help it; I snort. I don’t laugh cutely, or giggle, or even make a decent noise of any sort. I just snort. The shocked look on Peeta’s face sends me into peals. After several moments, I wipe the barely-there tears from eyes and stagger over to my water bottle and towel. I take a few sips from mine before I reach over to Mellark’s and toss it over to him. He catches it and raises it slightly in thanks before gulping it down. 

Well, at least now I know what his throat looks like when it bobs.  

I turn to the others who have been watching our exchange curiously. “Okay, get off your asses. We’re going to do a circuit. Do you know what a circuit is, in training terms?” I ask. Everyone nods and I continue. “Good. I want you all to spend a total of fifteen minutes on each of the sections: Calf, Thigh I, Thigh II, Back, Chest, Arms and Shoulders, and the Wall Ball, which will work on all of your muscles. There are notes at each of the aforementioned sections that will tell you the order in which you must work on the respective muscles. You can choose how long you want to spend on each individual equipment, and if you feel you aren’t ready for any of them once you’ve tried them then just leave them and we can work up to it later on. 

“Beetee has kindly set up a timer and buzzer for fifteen minutes that will reset seven times automatically, so you have to follow the schedule. Keep track of time and prepare the equipment for the next person so that everything is ready for all of you to switch at the buzzer. I’ll be joining you in this circuit, so if you need any help just call out. I will keep an eye on you, too, from whatever I’m doing. Do not overwork or underwork yourselves. Overworking means stupidity and underworking means laziness, and those are two very undesirable qualities for Squad 451. 

“Mellark to Calves; Darius to Thigh I; Finnick to Thigh II; Cato to Back; Gale to Chest; Thresh to Arms and Shoulders; I’ll be at the Wall Ball. Let’s go!” I command. 

We all leave for our sections and I set up the timer. 

“Is everyone ready?” I call out. They finish reading the notes I stuck up and nod. “Three...Two...One...Start!” 

I run over to the Wall Ball and move it over to a corner so that I can keep an eye on the guys, too. Everyone seems to be getting on well, but after a while I catch Gale struggling with the Leg Extension Machine. He is twisting his knees and hips when he shouldn’t be. “Gale!” 

“Yeah?!” he yells back. 

“We’re escaping that bear from six years ago and the branches are too weak for you to hold onto!” I shout. I can see him picturing it, as his hips and knees immediately cease their rotational movement. He’s probably remembering when that actually happened and he tried to wriggle further up from the bear, but his twisting didn’t help at all. When I suggested he just keep the position the same as he lifted himself up, he was able to get to safety.  

No one else has problems, for the rest of that section and the next, but Darius’s torso is bent as he works at the Lat Pulldown Machine, so I suggest he imagine that he is at a business meeting and his posture straightens. 

It goes on like that for a while, and now the only person I haven’t helped is Mellark, but he’s done everything flawlessly so I don’t bother checking on him.  

DING...DING...DING...DING...DING...DING...DING goes the buzzer to signify the end of the circuit.  

“Take ten, everyone!” I call out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Mama Said' is a song by Lukas Graham, although the version Katniss is singing is one you can search up on Youtube: "Nightcore - Mama Said - (Lyrics)"  
> Fun Fact: Moon Pies were invented when a coal miner asked a baker for a treat ‘as big as the moon’, resulting in the ‘Moon’ Pies; kind of fitting, isn’t it?  
> Peeta and Katniss interact some more in this chapter, and we get a glimpse of Katniss in her "bitchy trainer mode'.  
> Hope you all liked this chapter! Feedback is always appreciated. All mistakes are mine.  
> xEverlark4Lifex


	6. First Day Pt.2

**Peeta’s POV**  

“Take ten, everyone!” Everdeen calls. 

I wipe my face with the towel I brought and finish my refilled water bottle in one go. Relishing in the burning in my muscles, I sit down and stretch out over the bench along with the other guys.  

I have to admit, even though Everdeen is frigid and uptight, she is a great trainer. I haven’t felt this good after a workout in _ages_. And, she’s actually really fit. I don’t know anyone else who would do fifty laps for a warmup, and still have the energy to do an hour-and-three-quarters workout soon after, all the while somehow keeping an eye on all of us. 

I didn’t miss her lingering gaze on me, either. 

It was, however, hilarious watching her attempt to make me lose my voice. My throat _is_ burning, but the growing frustration and annoyance on her face made it all worth it; so did those same expressions growing when she shoved me and I - ignoring the tingles from where her hands met my bicep, presumably due to the exertion of my muscles and the sweat dotting my skin – taunted her, before we ended up racing each other. 

“So, what’s the deal with you and Kitty Kat flirting?” Finnick asks, nudging me in the elbow.  

I gawk at him. “We were not flirting! She pushed me, for fuck’s sake, and then we raced each other. I know you and Annie have some seriously distorted senses of kinks and flirting and whatnot, but my flirting is smooth and suave, and only with hot girls who can give me what I need.” 

Finnick’s eyes darken in disappointment and anger. I cringe. 

 _S_ _hit! What was I thinking? Everdeen’s_ _clearly really close to him and the others, and I basically just dissed her beyond necessity._ Not even to mention Finnick’s disapproval of my player ways. He used to be a player too – not nearly as much as I am, though – until he met Annie, and from then on became a monogamous romantic.  

I’m happy for him, truly, but I just don’t understand. I just don’t think there’s really ever going to be anyone for me like that. People see me and just see sex appeal. I just search for sex, too. And no one’s going to want anyone with my history with girls and past in life.  

“Shit, Finn, I’m sorry. Everdeen is actually a really great trainer,” I offer, running a hand through my hair and glancing over at Everdeen, who is jotting down some notes in a forest green notebook.  

Finnick huffs. “I’m not gonna say it’s okay, because what you just said isn’t anything close-” I nod, solemnly, “-but, I do agree with your last statement.” 

I crack a small grin that Finnick returns. 

“And, call it whatever you want, what you two were doing just then was most _definitely_ flirting.” He puts a hand up to stop my protests. “What, exactly, do you call whispering in each other’s ears, calling each other ‘ _my_ king/queen’ and the way you kept grinning at her?” 

My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “But that-that's not...not _flirting_ ,” I sputter incredulously. 

“I’m just saying,” Finnicks replies, his hands out defensively. He chuckles and bounds over to Gale and Thresh. I groan and put my head in my hands.  

My mortification is interrupted by Everdeen. “Time’s up! Next up – kickboxing,” she announces.  

I groan inwardly and decide to make it a point to not flirt with Everdeen anymore. Not that I was flirting in the first place – just that-ah! Damn it all! 

We join Everdeen where she waits for us in a makeshift ring, eyeing the white chalk ring surrounding us as we do. Then, we just stare at her, expectantly. 

She seems a bit disgruntled at all the eyes on her and curls in slightly on herself before she straightens while my lips quirk up in amusement. 

“Right. I’m sure you all know how to Bando kickbox, so we will have two people in the circle and the rest can do cardio kickboxing with the punching bags, training dummies or each other. Just a reminder, in real-life situations, there will be no rules applied but we will use a few for the purpose of perfecting technique and practice.  

“A pair will spend twenty minutes each in the ring before switching with another pair. If you step out of the circle, you are no longer allowed to use that body part; that is, if you fall and your right palm is out, you can no longer use it, but you can use your right elbow and shoulder. If you land with your elbow through to your palm out, you can only use your right shoulder. I think you guys get it. 

“The idea behind this is that you learn how to fight even with injuries. No headshots, or any particularly hard hits to the stomach and your favourite body part. You break those rules, you have to sprint fifteen laps and drinks are on you. Everywhere else is a free-for-all. Darius and Gale first; then Finnick and Thresh; then finally Cato and Mellark. If you’re not in the ring, you’re doing cardio kickboxing. Let’s go!” 

Everyone, with the exception of Everdeen, Darius and Gale, head over to the training equipment. I wrap my fists in the special tape we use and take up my usual place next to the punching bag.  

Closing my eyes, I release a slow breath before landing a few basic jabs, front elbow strikes and front kicks. I bounce in place for a few seconds, before repeating the moves in a different order with more force. I then switch to roundhouse kicks, uppercuts, jumping knee strikes and sweeping. I lose myself in the exertion of my muscles and the art of kickboxing. 

Before I know it, mine and Cato’s names are being called by Everdeen to join her in the ring. She eyes both of us up and down, not in an appraising way, but rather a cursory analysis and comparison of our physiques.  

I’m in the mood for riling her up again, though, so I take off my sweat-soaked shirt and toss it on a nearby bench. To my – oddly enough – disappointment, she does nothing but cock a brow at me, unimpressed.  

Slightly rattled by the lack of response (seeing as I am quite popular with the ladies – although I suppose you wouldn’t exactly define Everdeen as a ‘lady’) I turn to Cato and nod at him before readying myself and awaiting Everdeen’s signal. 

She expels a piercing whistle and we begin. I can tell that Everdeen, for her first time watching us kickbox, tried to pair us up so that frame-wise we would be evenly matched, but with Cato’s lack of discipline and his inability to remain focused, I can easily take him down if I piss him off enough.  

For the meantime though, I stick to taunting Cato with simple-looking dodges and not using any moves before Everdeen yells at me to get the hell on with it and I switch to the offensive and land the majority of my right crosses, crescent kicks and downward elbow strikes. He ends up with his right wrist landing outside of the ring, much to my benefit.  

“Keep your cool, Cato! Focus on the strikes, not the shit Mellark likes to toss about. Watch his moves, his technique!” Everdeen calls. To my surprise, Cato listens and is able to gain the offensive on me. In my shock, he is able to get my left foot out of the ring. 

Damnit. 

We continue, with both of us focussing more this time. I land my fair share of hits, and he lands his, but in the end, my one-legged-scissor-jumping-knee kick...thing...gets him out of the circle altogether.  

Panting, I turn to Everdeen, and she gives me a nod of approval. That’s it? That deserved a solid round of applause! I run a hand through my hair and aim a – usually, although apparently not with Everdeen – disarming smile at her. 

“You aren’t joining us, my qu- Everdeen?” I say, hastily switching names after remembering what Finnick insinuated.  

She gives me one of those tiny smirks and shifts her weight to her left leg. “I’d rather not destroy your egos before they even had a chance to grow. Although I don’t think yours needs much help.” 

“Oho! And just what makes you think you can beat me so easily?” I ask, leaning closer to her. 

She takes one step towards me. Two. Three. Our breaths mingle with each other’s, and I inhale the delightful scent of mint as she says mockingly, “You see, Mellark, I have these fascinating things called brains and skill. I’m not sure if you’ve ever heard of them, but they help me destroy people like you in thirty seconds. About how long you last doing the dirty, too, I presume.”  

My jaw goes to dive to the floor but I catch myself just in time. “You know, for someone who clearly dislikes me, you sure do spend a lot of time thinking about me in sexual situations.”  

Everdeen grinds her teeth and narrows her eyes dangerously at me even as she smirks challengingly and stalks to the circle. She points at Darius to referee us. “By the time I’m done, I doubt you’ll be in any shape to even take part in sexual situations in anyone’s mind, let alone mine.” 

Darius whistles twice and we do one of those little dances where we circle each other like dogs chasing their tails. After a few moments, I give in and lunge at her, aiming a simple jab for her shoulder but she gracefully tiptoes out of the way, near causing me to fall out of the circle. 

I spin around to where she mock-yawns and try to sweep her legs out from under her – which she elegantly tuck-jumps to avoid - and launch a wheel kick at her. Of course, she grabs my ankle while it’s in mid-air and re-arranges her hair as she flips me to land on my back. Like she did yesterday, she offers me a hand to help me up but this time I ignore it and stand up while scrutinising her instead.  

A wink. 

A single, devilish wink is all she gives me before she attacks.  A few rapid uppercuts, complex kicks and sharp strikes are all she needs to get me out of the ring. I gawk at her as she mimes checking her bare wrist for a non-existent watch before shaking her head at me tauntingly and says, “Would you look at that; twenty-two seconds! That has to be new record!” She grins as I sputter defensively. She then turns to the others, not a hair out of place. “Fifteen minutes and you guys can start with gun practice before Atala takes over.  

Grumbling and red-faced, I stalk over to the guys, all of whom are laughing their asses off and patting me on my shoulder mock-consolingly. I shrug them off and gulp down some more water before joining the others at the targets. Thresh hands me my usual gun and we settle ourselves in front of several sets of five targets/dummies, each further back than the previous one.  

“Okay, for gun training today, you’re just going to do some target practice. I’ll evaluate your technique and see what we need to work on tomorrow. Other than that, you guys have free reign,” Everdeen says.  

I roll my shoulders and neck to loosen them up a bit more before readying myself in position in front of the first dummy. I shoot a couple of blanks to reacquaint myself with the rebound and the feel of it before I load it with five synthetic re-loadable/-usable bullets that Beetee designed for our training. He modified them so that they do not shoot out through the other end of whatever targets we are using, or embed themselves too deep into them, making extracting the bullets to load them and use them again easily.  

Aiming the gun at the dummy marked with bullseyes at significant points – colour-coded to signify points to aim for to injure or maim, and points to aim for if the target must be killed or severely and fatally wounded – I pull the trigger. 

The bullet lands a few inches away from the centre.   

I huff frustratedly and continue shooting at the third target upon which I was practising, failing, again and again, to hit the precise bullseye until Everdeen comes over. Pausing, I look to her for assistance but she just orders me to do it again. 

“Your positioning is perfect until you pull the trigger – just as you pull it, your shoulder locks slightly and alters the direction. Try to keep your body relaxed,” she says. 

I nod and do as she said, releasing the tension in my upper body and shooting. 

Bullseye. 

To my shock and pleasure, I get bullseyes or a few millimetres off bullseyes and as I move to the fourth and fifth targets.  

When I turn to thank Everdeen, she is gone, helping out Finnick. I refocus myself on the target practice, which goes well for the rest of the session. 

“Alright, you guys get to rest until Atala gets here,” Everdeen announces. 

This is basically our lunch break. We wolf down whatever food we’d brought or grab something from the coffee store a block away. 

When Atala gets here, her disposition decidedly sombre and hollow, we stride over to the benches to wait for her instructions on whatever task she has decided for us to work on for SMT (Specialised Mental Training). Sometimes she’ll give us a series of complex riddles, rebus puzzles or fake cases to solve. 

Today, we’re working on a fake case depicting the kidnapping of children. We are given a series of digitally created images of evidence to try and uncover the criminal who is responsible after being given several lists of information; significant or not, it’s up to us to decide.  

We each take a list and begin scanning after reading the case description, marking suspects and all pieces of evidence. The aim of tasks like this is to form links and connect crimes if possible, comparing our information (in this instance, lists) with others’. We always end up losing ourselves in whatever assignment we have been given. 

Partway through, my gaze lifts from where it has been studying a peculiar receipt and switches its attention to where Everdeen is on the treadmill, earphones in and head bobbing along to whatever music she’s listening to even as she does what seems like a slightly relaxed sprint, but judging by her unflustered face, is a steady jog for her.  

As I stare at her, I think back to our match – if you could call it that – in the chalk-ring. I was perhaps the best kickboxer in Squad 451, and therefore Panem Police, but with little to no effort she had taken me down. Her movements were lithe and graceful, those of firelight dancing in the midst of a stormy night; oblivious and paramount, yet playful and carefree.  

I refocus on her as a slight swaying of her hips is added to the steady rhythm of her jogging, a sinfully intoxicating movement that has my heart beating faster.  

A slight shove interrupts my...whatever that was...and I spin around to see Thresh chuckling at me while he whispers to concentrate before Atala catches me ‘mooning’ over Everdeen. I go to protest, but he just returns his attention to the list, clearly a sign for me to do the same.  

This being a simple case, we manage to solve it in this session, just as Atala’s watch goes off to signify the end of SMT and the start of SWT (Specialised Weapons Training). We each dutifully go over to our stations, and out of the corner of my eye, I catch Everdeen slipping into the simulator with a worn, intricately carved bow that I’ve never seen before. Maybe she has one of her own at home, and felt more comfortable with it and decided to bring it in? 

I shake my head to ward off the wandering thoughts in my head and begin lifting lighter weights to start with before switching to the heavier ones. Having helped out and worked in my dad’s bakery, M’s or Mellark’s, since I could walk, apart from decorating the cakes I would also lift the flour, thus my strength. 

Of course, after Dad’s death, my eldest brother Bannock took over the business, although my other older brother – Rye – and I still help out occasionally.  

I work out the feelings and memories of Dad’s death through the weights, throwing with a bit more force than usual. If Atala notices when she comes around to my station, she doesn’t mention it. 

After the session is over, we stretch in the orderly lines we are accustomed to, Everdeen joining us. I am shocked – although by now, I really shouldn’t be – by how flexible she is, the way her body twists and turns captivating me.  

It’s sexy; there’s no denying that.  

We decide to forgo the Hob today and head home. I moved out of the apartment above M’s a year or two ago, but I still live close by so that I can easily walk over and help out if I need to.  

Even as I drive there, I find my mind clouded with thoughts of Everdeen, just as confused about her as I was yesterday. _That’s it, I’ve had enough_ , I think, and only enter my house to shower and don some fresh, appealing clothes before I drive over to the Hob. 

The stench of alcohol and sweat registers even before the loud, pounding music. I sidle up to the bar, ordering a simple water and sipping it as I scan the bar and dance floor. A pretty blonde with big tits and a succulent mouth catches my eye. The exact opposite of Everdeen; perfect. I slip into the empty barstool beside her and she turns to face me completely, admiring me before flashing me a smile.  

I use my signature grin on her and she melts. We engage in basic flirting, her doing the cliché flipping-hair-touching-arm thing and after a couple of minutes, we are all roaming hands as we get into my car and I drive to the woman’s place. Lip-locked as soon as we exit my car, we rush up to her bedroom tearing each other’s clothes off. 

Even still, as I find my release, it isn’t while thinking about the blonde’s impressive rack, but rather a luscious brown braid and a melodic laugh.  

What is happening to me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> I'm so sorry to those of you who read the following chapter before this and was confused. I had actually written two chapters, but, being used to posting a chapter as soon as I complete it, I completely forgot about my having written this chapter, too. I normally don't write two chapter at the same time, but I felt really bad about not updating as soon as I was before, and was hoping this could be a sort of apology.  
> Anyways - moving on from my clumsiness - I hope you all liked this chapter. All credits go to Suzanne Collins for her wonderful characters, and all my thanks to everyone who has read, commented and left kudos on my work. It all means so much to me.  
> xEverlark4Lifex


	7. The Case Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Explicit content and graphic depictions of violence. If you feel uncomfortable with either, please skip straight to the notes at the end of the chapter to view a summary.

**Katniss POV**

I am a serious mess. Not even a hot one. More like a demented werewolf unaccustomed to the abnormal sleeping schedule. Wait, do werewolves sleep? I mean, they have to, right? But if they’re awake through the day in the morning as humans, but then prowl about at night as werewolves, how would they? Unless they sleep as werewolves. Can they do that? 

As you can see: a mess.

It’d been about a week since I started training Squad 451. 

A week of Mellark getting on my nerves while I’d try to reciprocate, unsuccessfully.

Other than that, a great week.

But, of course, today I ended up waking up late because my sleep-addled brain decided, _Hey, even if I continue to snooze my useless alarm for another half-hour, I’ll still be able to make it on time to training_. Honestly, who gave Sleepy Katniss the right to make decisions? Because whoever it was needs to seriously re-evaluate her life choices.

Which is how I ended up an hour late for training, barely getting Prim breakfast and managing to drop her off at Annie’s before breaking probably fifty speed limits to get there as early as possible. 

I’m still in my pyjamas! I’m just grateful I was sleeping in a onesie that can pass as sweats and not anything skimpy or remotely revealing. Small fucking mercies.

I stumble into the large gym, my hair messed up to replicate a rat’s nest and my shoes on the wrong foot. To my shock, I find the area packed with groups of people in black clothes, flashing lights, green screens and camera along with yelled orders scattered across the vast space that has been slightly cleared to make room for...whatever it is that’s going on. 

“I am honoured, Miss Everdeen, that you were able to cut time away in your seemingly filled schedule to come to your _mandatory_ workout session. We could get you some top-of-the-line champagne if it pleases your highness. Maybe some for your chauffeur, too?” a deep rumbling voice murmurs from directly behind me.

I spin around, already knowing who I’m going to find but nonetheless still pissed to find Mellark there, grinning at me. 

“Funny. Don’t those words seem familiar to you?” Of course, I do. They’re the exact same words I spewed at him when he came in late my first day. 

I choose to ignore him and instead ask, “What the hell is going on here, Mellark?”

He gives me a mocking grin reminiscent of the one I gave him yesterday when I beat him yet again in kickboxing. “Didn’t you know? We’re doing a photoshoot for a calendar today.”

Gawking, I begin to demand why I wasn’t notified but at that moment Haymitch decides to make an appearance.

“There you are, Sweetheart! We were wondering when you’d show up. You see, we’re photographing Squad 451 members and a couple from other Squads for a calendar. And, since we need at least one female model, Mellark volunteered Squad 451, and we just got the green light to accept you as part of the Squad, you’re the female model for...one of the months,” he says.

“First of all, why? Second of all, HELL NO! There is _no way_ in hell that I am modelling! I don’t know how to, for one, and _look at me_! No one’s going to want to by a calendar with _me_ posing on one of the pages. Rather, they’d vomit several times, rip it into pieces, and _then_ demand a refund!” I yell, disgust coating my words.

Mellark responds this time. “For the ‘why?’, I’m assuming you’re asking why we’re the ones posing for a calendar and not a modelling agency? My sister-in-law, Leevy, owns a charity and all the proceeding from these calendars go to her charity for health and education for the underprivileged. She wanted to save money on the models and put the majority into the design, production and marketing of the calendars. So, I volunteered Squad 451, since we’re the most attractive.” And, there he goes again, with that fucking wink.

I growl threateningly at him – for what, I’m not sure – and instead stalk away to the targets in an attempt to work out the frustration before sitting on a bench in a slightly quieter area near the entrance doors.

I might have yelled at him for being such a pompous asshole if he didn't mention the charity being for underprivileged children. I experienced several years of that, having grown up in the Seam of Precinct 12 (the poorest of the thirteen that exist in Panem). Hollow faces and weak bodies at every turn. Yet despite the fact we were starving, we were a loyal community. Whatever anyone had to spare, which was less often than more, they would share everything with others. We had each other’s backs. 

There was an element of requisite trust between all of us that I had only come to experience again in Panem Police. My relationships with my friends and Prim consist of a more voluntary trust.

Ironic, really, when trust was such an important thing throughout my life, I still am not capable of giving it out easily. I suppose that has something to do with the fact that I never once allowed myself or my family to have to depend on trust more than what was imperative.

I push the memories back down, deep down, where they cannot reach up to pull me down with them. Instead I focus on my impending doom.

“Hey, Girl On Fire,” a familiar voice intones.

My head darts up at the voice and I launch myself into my old friend’s arms. “Cinnamon!” I squeal. 

“Hi there!” he chuckles, setting me down on the bench while he joins me. “How have you been?”

“Honestly? Fine until today. Cinna, I can’t do this modelling thing!” I say, my voice rising as bit of panic sets in.

“Hey, hey. Let’s not worry about that right now; we can watch the other shoots for a bit,” Cinna says. I sigh and acquiesce before Cinna goes back to checking the beautiful outfits (obviously designed by him) while I sit, grumbling on a table. 

I scan the room from my perch and see all Squad 451 members, a few guys I vaguely recognize from whatever little time I spent in the other Squads, and someone who looks startlingly like Mellark with his arm wrapped around a beautiful brunette. I’m assuming that’s Mellark’s brother and his wife, the latter who owns the charity for whom this whole calendar shit is for.

Suddenly, a flash of bright pink catches my eye and a tiny smile crosses my face at the sight of Effie Trinket, Cinna’s assistant and a good friend of mine. She can be a bit much at times, being a stickler for manners and tardiness, but she has a good heart. My smile widens slightly when I catch sight of the rest of the familiar crew; Flavius, Octavia, Venia and even Portia! 

My gaze flits over to where Mellark stands by Gale, and I notice his eyes’ magnificent blue clouding with a silvery mist of confusion and unsettledness. I wonder what could have happened to cause that, because it’s certainly not this situation; according to him, he planned this all. 

Shaking my head, I turn to where Cinna is busy directing Portia’s shots and the Panem Police Squad members’ poses. Even though I am practically quaking, I have to admire Cinna’s style. He has a way of getting everyone’s attention and making everyone feel comfortable and at ease with whatever he asks of them. 

He was a couple years older than me but we still hung out in College. Honestly, he was the only one I could stand besides Annie. He rocketed to the top of the fashion world soon after he graduated but he still helps out anywhere he can, especially for favours for friends.

I notice a pattern. Cinna would talk to each ‘model’ for a short time, a while before their shoot. At first, you would think that it was just his friendly disposition, but eventually you can pick out that he does it to figure out with which setting the officers would feel most relaxed and at home for a shoot in order to attain the best photos possible. Of course, part of it is to get to know them out of curiosity and friendliness, but he’s really clever about working out who they are as people, too, for his photoshoot. 

All the photos try to capture the ‘models’ as police officers while getting a variety of shots, each completely different to the next. Cinna manages to convey that the ‘models’ are actual policemen – or at least, people acting as policemen, which is what buyer will presume – while their backdrop has nothing to do with it. 

It’s pretty damn cool.

Gale is set in a room full of fancy weapons and design sketches, with his outfit consisting of a black hard hat, hammer, fanny pack, slim-fit black pants and only one of those safety vests – black silk, emblazoned with the Panem Police badge - on his top-half. His only other prop is a gun. 

Thresh is surrounded by a backdrop reminiscent of his home’s, Precinct 11’s, meadows. His outfit is that of a tight plaid shirt and similar-fitted pants with the Panem Police logo printed across his thigh, both of which cling to his large frame. Cinna somehow accomplishes to make the meadow seem like part of a crime scene without taking away from its beauty.

Finnick, is, of course, set beachside. Cinna even manages to procure wave sounds to mingle with the backdrop. I doubt Finnick’s outfit could even be considered as such; _h_ _e's draped in a golden net that's strategically knotted at his groin so that he can't technically be called naked, but he's about as close as you can get._ That’s it. Well, besides his trident and hat, both of which are adorned with the Pane Police logo. And it makes me near gag. Finnick catches me doing so and sticks his tongue out at me. I suppose he is some sort of lifeguard? That apparently also works at Panem Police?

The other officers have their turns after that.

And then, Mellark goes. 

And holy fucking shit, does he look good. Cinna has set him up in what looks to be – oddly enough – an art studio. His stunning blue eyes brighten to a devastating azure. I’m pretty sure my jaw is on the floor.  A pair of fake black glasses accentuate them as well. The slim-fitting police shirt he wears clings deliciously to his muscles, the undone top three buttons exposing a slight smattering of blond hair dotting his smooth golden skin. The shiny black leather pants he wears hug his ass perfectly and I find myself blindly wiping my mouth in case of drool.

Two seconds later, the wrist that gently skims my mouth uncurls it fingers to slap me back to reality.

Ow, shit. That hurt. 

I rub my cheek gingerly as I watch him effortlessly pose in front of the camera, everything he does pure camera gold. _He must be used to all the attention_ , I think, hoping my negative thoughts take away from the undeniable attraction. But it doesn’t work. I find myself pouting inwardly that there’s nothing about Mellark that isn’t perfect.

After only a few minutes, Cinna calls a wrap on his shoot. 

And, now I’m practically shitting myself.

I get up from my perch and look around, frantically looking for an escape. I might be able to make it to the entrance doors if I’m quick enough. Just as I begin running, a warm, large hand wraps around my waist, preventing me from moving further. I expel a short huff of breath as my body rests against Mellark’s. I don’t know how I knew it was him, I just do.

“Going somewhere, Everdeen?” he murmurs, his warm breath fanning against my ear and causing me to shiver for unfathomable reasons. 

“Not anymore, clearly,” I mutter, folding my arms over his. He loosens his grip slightly, but doesn’t let go. Smart boy.

Cinna, Portia, Gale, Finnick and Thresh make their way over to where we stand. I groan and my scowl deepens.

“Wow! Your scowl is really powerful if it can make a dent in my...mood,” Portia begins, catching herself just in time. She almost revealed my mask.

I know, I know. Why do I not want Mellark to know? I’m embarrassed by it, I guess. Embarrassed by the fact that I feel the need to wear it even after all this time, when other victims of assault can go back to normal – or as close to normal as they can get – a while after.

Meanwhile, here I am. A coward. Not even an actual victim, yet still hiding after a year. I suppose that’s not the entire truth, not the only reason I wear the mask, but it doesn’t make me feel any less like a whimpering idiot. 

“You can’t make me model,” I grumble. 

“I’m sorry, Katniss, but you don’t have much choice,” Cinna returns.

“Why me? I’m sure there are countless other beautiful women in Panem Police who would love to help!” I protest.

“Sorry. There’s a reason why we took Squad 451 and a couple members from the higher Squads. Because you all deal with more serious crimes that don’t appear as often, and the lower Squads have several, less significant or complicated, cases that come up often, we can’t spare any of them. And those who are in higher Squads are working on cases and can’t be spared. Unlucky coincidence, I’m afraid,” Portia pipes in. 

I groan again and look to Gale, Finnick and Thresh for support. Gale just looks at me nervously and apologetically.

“Gale,” I growl. “What have you done?”

He winces as he says, “We figured you wouldn’t agree to this so easily, so we may have called for some backup.”

As if on cue, Johanna strides in, sidling up to Thresh. I’m assuming Madge and Annie are still with Prim at Annie’s house.

Honestly, Johanna is really the only one they need. She may be small, but damn she can somehow force anyone to do anything if necessary. Like now, I assume.

“Hi bitch,” Johanna greets.

Another groan from my behalf. Yippee ya-ya. 

Sorry, I don’t know what that last bit was.

“No way,” I say.

“Come on, Brainless. Unlatch yourself from Blonde and Yummy over there and get your ass to prep or whatever the fuck you have to do,” Johanna orders.

I blush and stiffen, moving away from Mellark and instantly missing his body warmth.  

“This whole calendar thing is stupid. Why can’t we do a bake sale or some shit instead? You could get M’s to help; you’ll make money like that,” I say, snapping my fingers to emphasise the speed at which M’s baked goods would sell. I’m not even exaggerating. Over the course of the past week, Prim and I had visited multiple times to try out everything and they were all delicious. I might have very well ended up emptying my pocket over there if I didn’t catch myself at the last moment.

I catch Mellark grinning in the corner of my eyes. He must agree.

“I think you, of all people, would realize that those underprivileged kids deserve a chance at life. And, all those single guys and girls out there would probably pour their money at calendars of hot people ‘dressed’ as policemen and policewomen. Well, wom _an_. Would you really refuse to help those children out?” Portia argues, yanking on the guilt trip wire.

“I can’t model,” I try. It’s the truth; I don’t even like being in group photos.

“I’ll will help with that,” Cinna volunteers.

“Why can't Jo do it, instead?” I’m desperate now.

Immediately, Thresh pulls her into his embrace and shakes his head. “She’s all mine.” I know for a fact that if he were anyone else, Johanna would have kicked his ass, but I’ve never seen Johanna treat anyone so lovingly as she does with Thresh.

“But you can?” I say to him, a brow raised. 

“Oh, please. Can’t you tell how tightly she has him wrapped around her finger?” Mellark says. My eyes shoot to him. _Very true_ , I nod. I turn back.

“Argh. Look at me! No one in their right mind would pick me to model! I have no curves, no attractive traits, no pretty face, and no clue at how to be sexy for shit!” At this point, it’s getting harder to keep my voice down to prevent attracting stares from the other people in the room.

“Cut the bullshit. We all know that, prude though you are, you can be one sexy piece of ass when you want to,” Johanna volleys, smirking at my wince at her crass language.

“Jo-” I begin, but am cut off when, after receiving a look from Johanna, Mellark hauls me over his shoulder and looks to Cinna.

Everyone, smart as they are, cover their ears to attempt to block out the oncoming rage. Content that my friends have some sense of who I am, I begin. “You fucking asshole! Put me down, now! Let go of me!” I roar, banging my fists against Mellark’s back, to no avail.

“Just through there, please,” Cinna directs over my indignant shouts, pointing at a door a few meters away. 

“Fuck all of you!” I scream, which the others laugh off. 

Mellark takes me to the room Cinna pointed out, and I’m so pissed I don’t even register the tingling warmth Mellark’s hands on my hips causes until he sets me down outside the door. As soon as he does so, three sets of familiar hands – Flavius's, Octavia’s and Venia’s - grab me and haul me in.

What room even was this? Storage? Well, certainly not anymore.

The door locks behinds me and I look at the bed laid out, the pot of hot wax, the bath running in the adjoining toilet, the lingerie set up and take a deep breath, closing my eyes.

Hello, Satan in many, many material forms.

**Peeta’s POV**

Whew. That was hard.

I walk back to Gale, Finnick, Thresh, Johanna, Cinna and Portia stand, rubbing what of my back I can reach to soothe the pain of Everdeen’s onslaught. 

“Good job, Peet,” Finnick says. I completely agree. Taming Everdeen takes serious skill.

“Thanks for coming, babe,” Thresh says to Johanna, kissing her soundly before releasing her and allowing both to turn back to the group.

“What are you planning on doing for her shoot?” I ask Cinna, genuinely curious.

“The woods, obviously. That’s where Katniss feels most comfortable,” he says. 

“Do you think she’ll be able to do it? The modelling?” Finnick asks.

“I have complete faith in her,” Cinna replies.

“I think I’d just love to watch her try,” Gale jokes, resulting in a smack from Johanna, even as she snorts in agreement. She gets very protective of her friends. 

We end up taking it in turns to try and imitate what Everdeen might look like when she tries to model. I’ve only known her for a short time, but I can already tell she hates attention; a lot of which will be on her when she joins the photoshoot. 

Our joking discussions are cut off by – presumably – Everdeen's muffled curses from inside.

Johanna bursts into laughter. “Oh, shit. She’s getting waxed, I bet. The only pain Brainless can’t handle,” she chuckles. 

We all join in.

After a while, we just sit or lie on the ground to wait for Everdeen, occasionally passing the time by chatting. 

“No! There is no way in hell I am wearing that! It’s beautiful, and you’ve all worked so hard on it and me, but there is absolutely no chance,” comes the muted raised voice of Everdeen. We perk up and turn to the door.

Portia sighs, “I’ll go see what all the fuss is about.”

After another five minutes of arguing between the two women, Everdeen is shoved out. For a second, she looks like a deer in headlights, and clings to the door like it’s a lifeline before her entire demeanour changes. She stalks towards where we are resting and thrusts her finger angrily at Cinna.

“What the fuck is this supposed to be?!” Everdeen yells.

“Katniss, these shots are supposed to be attractive and sexually appealing,” Cinna replies

“But-” Everdeen starts. But I don’t hear the rest of their conversation.

I couldn’t make out exactly what Everdeen was wearing when she was against the door, but I sure as hell see her now.

She is all I see now.

I always assumed that, because Everdeen always wore sweats – and they couldn’t have been all too comfortable after she got sweaty from workouts – perhaps she was self-conscious about her weight or something. If she was, she certainly has no reason to be.

Most of her smooth, glowing olive skin is on display by her outfit. If you could call it that. She’s wearing the tiniest fucking jumpsuit I’ve ever seen, the bottom half not even fully covering her ass. Which, by the way, is the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen or could have imagined. Her tanned, toned legs stretch on for miles, even with knee-high leather boots concealing part of it, and lacy black stockings and an equally black and lacy garter belt partially concealing the rest. 

The jumpsuit itself clings deliciously to her perfect body, a belt wrapped around her cinched waist. And, jfc, are those _handcuffs_ connected to it? I shift uncomfortably in on the floor as my cock begins to harden thinking of ways to use them on her. Or, vice versa. 

The sleeves reach just above her elbow, and a hole has been cut and styled to look like a flower yet bare her bullet wound scar. The front zipper of her jumpsuit is attached to a Panem Police badge, and has been tugged down about halfway to partially reveal her full, perky breasts that are perfectly proportionate to her size encased in a lacy bra that pushes them up and gives everyone an eyeful.

Her braid has been taken out to cascade around her in lush locks, with a police hat on top. 

I’m pretty sure my jaw is on the ground. Everdeen has easily the most stunning body I’ve ever seen. 

I raise my eyes to her neck and notice that the olive skin suddenly stops reaching out, and instead the pale, pasty skin of her face takes over. It’s such a startling difference, that I now know for a fact it’s unnatural.

“You’ll be fine, Katniss!” Cinna says, capturing my attention. Everdeen just folds her arms, pushing her breasts up even further, and shifts her weight to her right hip. “Now, why don’t you take off the rest?”

For a second, I think he’s talking about her clothes, but I quickly remember that Cinna would do no such thing, especially if she was uncomfortable with it. My attention is snagged back on Everdeen as, to my complete and utter shock, she rolls her eyes and begin _peeling away her fucking skin_. That’s when I realise it’s not a skin. I was right.

Everdeen has been wearing an extremely well-crafted mask this entire time.

She gives it to Portia and once again, I am left floundering.

Because not only is Everdeen’s body stunning, but her face is gorgeous, too.

A graceful neck leads up to a gently pointed chin, high cheekbones supporting rosy cheeks, two thin, sleek eyebrows and a slender, slightly upturned, nose. Holy hell, the most perfect lips; full and luscious, red and soft. 

“Katniss,” Cinna says, in a warning tone. What more could she-

Oh.

_Never mind._

She snorts and scowls – the latter turning me on more than a little – before taking out what I realize to be contact lenses, and places them in the case she fished out from her boots. 

After a few moments, Everdeen switches her gaze to meet mine.

All the breath is knocked out of me as I stare at her true eyes, encompassed by lengthy, thick dark lashes. A molten silver with golden and navy flecks that make her eyes resemble a fulgent flickering flame, not unlike the one I compared her very self being during our ‘match’ that first day to. 

As she turns back to Cinna, I release a breath I seem to have been holding since I saw her in her getup. 

I have never ever thought of women, even the really attractive ones, as being anything beyond pretty, or occasionally hot if I get bored with the word ‘pretty’.

But Everdeen is hands down beautiful. Sexy, gorgeous, stunning, radiant as the damn sun. The list could quite possibly go on forever.

I snap out of it when Everdeen and the others make their way over to where she is going to have her photos taken. I quickly get up and jog after them. 

The pure golden of the flecks in Everdeen’s eyes brighten to an innocent flame when her eyes alight on the set. My stomach swoops at the sight of her finding pleasure in something I created over a long time, like I did the other sets. 

“It’s okay, Katniss. Just pretend no one is here; you’re alone in your woods. Just be natural. I’m betting on you, Girl on Fire,” Cinna says, his voice taking on the low, soothing tone you usually hear in those yoga-mindfulness-thingies. Everdeen just raises an eyebrow and her expression practically screams, ‘ _Pretend I’m alone? With all these people focused on me?_ ’ Cinna just scowls and motions for her to get on with it.

Johanna, from where she stands in our semi-circle surrounding Everdeen, reaches over and slaps Everdeen’s ass. The person in question jumps and scowls at her friend.

“Go for it, sexy,” she cackles. But then her face morphs to one of wonder and she starts caressing Everdeen’s butt before Everdeen slaps the hand away.

“Jo, what the fuck?” 

“Dude, your butt is so _soft_. My God, what do you _use_? It’s like silk!” Johanna says in response, blunt as ever. Once again, my cock begins to harden as I envision myself doing those things to Everdeen, feeling how soft her ass is for myself. 

Everdeen gapes and wacky Johanna lightly on the arms, flushing a deep red. The blush does nothing to ease the situation in my pants as I follow its path to her chest and envision it all over after an orgasm.

My eyes dart down discretely and I’m grateful that the pants Cinna had me put on are too tight for a boner.

But then everyone quiets and the focus transfers to Everdeen, who stiffens as though coils of rope had tightened around her, her fingers even flexing. Her eyes widen and the bright flames cloud over as the deep blue takes control and flares, lighting up her silvery gaze. Cinna motions for to get a move on.

But she’s going to need a lot more to get on with it. Everdeen really does try to model, but even with the tactics Cinna pours on her, she just can’t do it. She’s too tense, her movements too stiff and her poses too awkward. Everdeen’s face grows more and more flustered the further on they go, with embarrassment and frustration. It shocks me just how expressive her face is when I’m accustomed to her stoic mask. Though I could definitely get used to this face.

Eventually, Cinna just sighs and calls it a wrap, rubbing his temple exasperatedly. Everdeen exhales heavily, and immediately runs over to the simulator, slamming her delicate hands on the close button as she runs in, the two-way modified glass doors close behind her.

Might I add, the view from behind was the most heavenly thing I’ve ever seen. 

Gale, Finnick, Thresh, Johanna and I go after her, watching her through the glass. She artfully swings herself up to a small ledge higher up and to my shock – not necessarily displeasure – her hands sneaks past the opening of her jumpsuit and contorts her arm into an awkward position to...what is she doing?

Oh. 

 _Oh_.

My answer is given when she pulls out the bra and lets it dangle for a moment before setting it beside her, as her straight white teeth release the lush bottom lip she was nipping so fucking ravishingly before her pink tongue darts out to soothe it. 

Oh, _fuck_. 

And then she just has to go ahead and cup her breasts, slightly massaging them and wincing at the – I’m assuming – brief pain from the tight bra, before she releases them and tilts her head back to the wall.

Oh, _fucking holy hell_. 

Is she trying to kill me?

“Hey, Cinna! Bring the camera over! Turns out, Brainless can get really hot when she thinks she’s alone!” Johanna yells, smirking at Everdeen all the while. “ _Just you_!” Johanna growls when she catches sight of the rest of the camera crew going to follow dutifully. 

Cinna brings his camera over and sets it on the stand he carried, not even questioning Johanna’s demand. I’m pretty sure he’s desperate for a good shot for the calendar at this point. I can’t help but feel guilty; can’t help feeling invasive of her privacy. But I can’t turn away. I’m not entirely sure I’ll ever be able to.

Everdeen flips off the ledge and immediately, the gold flecks in her eyes tinge red and the blues deepen while the silver of her irises become illuminated.

“I fully told them I couldn’t model, but _no-o-o_ , I was the one they insisted on using and look where that got us. No looks, no curves and _yeah, sure, she’ll fit in_ with the likes of fucking perfect Mellark!” Everdeen huffs, her voice rising with each clause.

And what did she mean by _perfect_ _Mellark_? Is that what she thinks of me?

“So, why don’t we just put her over there, by her favorite place in the world and pray that by some fucking miracle she suddenly becomes this alluring vixen and she won’t look out of place and not make people want to burn their calendars!

“Honestly, what did they expect? Put me in a sexy outfit – and on that note, _what the fuck is this_?! I’ll tell you what this is, it’s more skin that I’ve ever revealed in total my entire life; including the day I was born!” I can’t help but smile at her purity, her innocence, her shyness.

“And now, they put me in these scraps of clothing and make me stand in front of a camera, and expect me to look hot?! Me? Katniss Everdeen? Clearly, those two do not go together! Plus, they wanted me to model when fucking Mellark was standing off to the side, in those goddamned pants that hug his ass way too perfectly to be legal! No one could possibly be expected to do anything, when he is right there!

“ _Oh yeah, I’m_ _Mellark_ _, I get girls with a look because I have these fucking_ _sex-hair_ _blonde curls, and fucking_ _delicious_ _muscles, and a fucking s_ _exy s_ _mile with that fucking_ _hot_ _dimple and these fucking_ _gorgeous_ _blue eyes!_ Honestly, who gave him the right to be that hot?! Because it should be illegal. Yeah! Someone should throw him in jail for being too sexy. _For fuck’s sake, Everdeen!_ Calm yourself! There is no way you’re seriously attracted to Mellark! He’s too..too- Argh, I hate him!”

Holy shit. Everdeen thinks I’m hot? Four pairs of eyes – Cinna still being concentrated on clicking away at Everdeen’s accidentally seductive stances as her breasts strain against the jumpsuit in her anger – shoot to me and I find myself flushing even as a wide smile overtakes my face and I run my hand through my ‘ _fucking_ _sex-hair_ _blonde curls’_.

It’s clear now that the burning inferno in her eyes was caused by anger.

Angry Everdeen is unfairly hot.

“Honestly, I’m done with this shit!” Everdeen kicks her leg up and her phone flies out into her waiting palm. Still grumbling, she sets the phone on the ledge, beside her bra, and murmurs so softly I barely catch it, “Let’s see if Jo’s playlist will make me feel better.” There’s a pause as she plays the music before she laughs as Booty (Jennifer Lopez ft. Pitbull) begins echoing throughout the simulator and through to us, the sound amplified by a tiny speakerphone she must have had in her phone case. “Fucking hell, Jo!” she chuckles.

In the edge of my vision I see Johanna grinning smugly.

But nothing can distract me when she starts moving.

Sinuous sways of her hips and voluptuous dance moves combine to make her the most provocative dancer, beyond any of my fantasies of anyone and no one. 

I find my eyes drawn to the slight jiggle of her bottom when she squats and bounces, gliding back up to a bent-over position as her hands skim her legs in the same motion, before she locks her right knee and raises her left leg to a bent position at the side and jerking, causing her ass to bounce once, deliciously. Then she twists and puts both hands on her turned out right leg and twisting the left inwards before turning it back out.

When Boom (Tiësto & Sevenn ft. Gucci Mane) starts playing, I think I lose all the air in my lungs as she turns around, her head angled down over her left shoulder before popping out her hips alternatively in an eventual figure-of-eight movement to the beat of the music. And then she widens her legs and begins bouncing her ass up and down in a way I vaguely recall being called twerking. It’s clear that she has never done this before, with her movements slightly unsure, but it’s still so erotic. 

Soon she’s adding more of those flips and tricks she did that first day, made so much hotter by the uniform clinging to her every curve. When the final song (Police Man (Eva Simons)) ends, she finishes not in splits, but in a position where her left foot is placed so the leg is wrapped in front around her butt, with her right leg extended forward to show off her long legs. Her forearms are crossed and resting on her extended knee. **(A/N: Here is a link to the website I found the pose I am describing on. You have to scroll down a bit, until you reach the photo captioned Girl Styles (bottom row, middle column):** _https://urbangrooveugdn.wordpress.com/tag/girl-hip-hop/_ **)**

The hat hasn’t fallen off, but that must be because of several pins.

But the hat not falling off isn’t what surprises me. Oh, no. What surprises me is how much of a sultry goddess Katniss Everdeen can be when she thinks no one is looking. 

Johanna is recording the whole thing with her jaw dropped, and memories of her cheers throughout Everdeen’s dancing barely register. Gale, Finnick and Thresh were cheering their friend on too, if not as loudly, and when I turn to Cinna, he has plopped onto a chair, panting. He must have abandoned the camera stand at some point and started moving around to attain the angles he wanted. 

Considering how long Everdeen can go without tiring – a really impressive amount of time – he must have been working his ass off.

And I don’t know about him, but I saw trillions of opportunities for perfect photos. With the professional camera of course, that wouldn’t have Everdeen blurred from her movements. 

“Shit, she’s coming out! Take the camera away, Cinna! Gale, Finn, Thresh, Blondie, SCAT!” Johanna orders. We do as she says, going to random places in the gym in pairs, to avoid making Everdeen realise we can see her through the glass. 

Kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkp

**Katniss P** **OV**

With so much time spent on the photoshoot crap, we only have time for SMT with Atala. Her mood, however, is even more sombre and despondent than it’s been as of late. Of course, I don’t know what she is like without that cloud hanging over her head, but I know that face when I see it.

The guys sit on the benches, except for Mellark, who stares at me expectantly until I realize that I’m part of Squad 451 too, now, and hurriedly join them. 

“We’re not going to be doing SMT today. At least, not any exercises. Chief Abernathy has asked me to do a Case Reveal,” Atala begins. “One of the government members who was responsible for monitoring searches for any dangerous suspects discovered a website which she investigated, being suspicious, and found that it had videos of children, roughly ages twelve to eighteen, held captive and forced to fight each other to the death save for a lone ‘Victor’. They were given a choice: either kill, or be killed. And the methods for killing were gruesome and brutal. She notified Chief Abernathy of the website, which was disguised as a website for a non-existent company by the name of Crane’s,” Atala begins. Everything and everyone has gone deafeningly silent, apart from the sound of my breath hitching. _Crane_. “The website is still up, in hopes of more clues and for investigation purposes. As far as the website shows, these events have occurred for one year, but according to dates it is to happen in the next week or so.”

No one moves. No one _can_ move. The abrupt reveal of this case roots us in place; the contents of the case grasp our breaths and lock them in a firm grasp. 

“I have been given these pieces of information by Chief Abernathy; a more detailed description and the link to the websites being amongst them,” Atala says. 

She sets down a startlingly short stack of papers in front of us before Darius spreads out the sheets.

We go onto the website via Cato’s computer, and click on the most recent video.

Hours.

Hours and hours of footage of young children being forced to torture each other or be tortured. Tears streaming down faces as bellows of agony rip through the screen and echo in our eardrums. 

Thresh lurches for the right arrow key and skips forward, freeze frames of torture devices wielded by devastated children, grinning masked men watching on, and blood splatters, flashing by. The final clip shows a young child of around 16 being escorted out of the building, his eyes hollow and lacking any life, a trail of bloodied bodies dumped in a corner.

Forgotten and overlooked.

Disregarded.

The screen turns black. So, does my vision. 

I can’t afford to show any emotion, lest they deem me to unprofessional and emotional for such cases, so I do what I’ve always done to release it.

Sneaking both hands beneath my boot-sheathed thighs, I pinch the curlicue between my fingers, easily slicing through the delicate skin. The pain, lassoes my nerves for a second before releasing blood that drips down my skin along with my anger, indignation and sorrow. 

Breathe in. 

Out.

In.

Out.

I force myself into the unfeeling state of cold calculation that I enter during such gruesome cases. Force myself to scan the unnaturally few sheets of information on the case. Force myself to create a mental inventory and analyse every word. 

My gaze raises to Mellark’s, and I know, this will perhaps be the most horrifying, dangerous case any of us will ever have to go on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary for people who didn't wish to read the mature content of this chapter:  
> Katniss's mask comes off, and Peeta sees her for what she truly looks like. This occurs in the context of a photo shoot for a charity calendar. Finally, a case reveal is given: videos are being uploaded on a website of children fighting to the death (basically like a more compact, lower-scale yet more horrifying, THG).  
> Notes:  
> For the photo shoot, I had originally planned to do this as a business dinner or a celebration party of some sorts but I couldn’t figure out a plausible reason for Katniss to take off her mask, so the photoshoot idea came up after a memory of jaccer248’s ‘Picture Perfect’ arose in the corners of my mind. I know the whole dancing thing is a bit unexpected and possibly unrealistic of Katniss, but it is more so than her being able to model. The dancing thing was the only method of attaining decent photos for the calendar I could think of, so excuse the unrealisticness of that part.  
> As always, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I would like to thank everyone who has commented, left kudos and subscribed; your support means the world to me.   
> xEverlark4Lifex


	8. Emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All credits go to Suzanne Collins for the wonderful Hunger Games trilogy.

Katniss POV 

I absolutely fucking love riding Hunter. 

I mean, seriously, what better feeling is there than getting to release all worries and simply get lost in the feel of a cool breeze caressing your face as it streams past? Or the control and power you have? Or the pure thrill of riding such a sexy motorcycle? 

The ability to easily skip traffic is pretty awesome, too. 

But I must say, M’s cheese buns are getting pretty close. 

That’s where I’m headed to now. Prim begged me not to feed her too much for breakfast because Madge had promised her a feast of waffles. I couldn’t even think about whether or not it was a good idea when she turned those goddamned puppy eyes on me and I had no choice. 

I, however, am still starving; so, M’s bakery. 

The place isn’t actually that far from my house, but seeing as I was planning on going straight from M’s to training, I figured that taking Hunter was the best choice. 

Chaining and locking my beloved HD to the bike stand a couple blocks off, I walk over to the display of a widely varied range of cakes, each intricately decorated with a delicate hand.   
Fuck, I’m salivating. 

I snap out of it when my phone rings from the rucksack I stuffed my helmet into. Johanna’s face – partly shielded by a middle finger (although the wide smile behind it does little for the no-fucks-given demeanour) - appears over my lockscreen (Willow and Prim – photoshopped together, of course) and I quickly tap the answer button to avoid Johanna huffing about the time it took for me to pick up. 

“Hey Jo – mmph!” I start to greet, before cutting myself off with a muffled moan at the delicious aroma flooding my senses. 

“Oi! Are you having sex while talking to me?” Johanna says, followed by laughter at her oh-so-amusing joke. 

“Jo!” I whine, flushing red. “Of course, not! I just walked into M’s.” 

She, in turn, lets out a moan of her own. “God, I completely understand, now.” 

“Thank you.” I walk over to the display cases and analyse all the pastries and other baked goods, despite already knowing what I’m going to eat. “So, why’d you call?” 

“I’m bo-o-ored!” Johanna groans, and I chuckle in response. 

“Why? Weren’t you supposed to be looking at the new design entries for manufacturing?” Johanna owns her own business, in which she – along with a trusted team of others – create the most beautiful furniture I have ever seen. 

“Yeah, see, I would but...” she pauses, coming up with some excuse, “meh, fuck it. I just don’t want to.” 

“So you figured you’d call and hope for some interesting conversation with me?” I ask. We both know full well that I am the suckiest (yes, it is a word; I said so myself) person ever at any kind of social interaction. 

“Fair enough. But Madge is babysitting and Annie is busy preparing some surprise for her and Finn’s 3-year anniversary. You’re the only one left. And don’t give me any BS about work because I know for a fact that it doesn’t start until after...38-no, 37, now, minutes. Enlighten me with something!” 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know. Make something up. Ooh, tell me about the hot blonde from work who fucks you brainless at least five times a day,” she suggests. 

I freeze, Mellark automatically coming up in my mind. “What?!” 

“Oh, come on! Your ideas would be too bland for my taste; go with this one. This one could be really interesting if you try. Please?” Thank God. It was just an idea for a voyeuristic story to occupy her mind. I mean, not that there’s anything going on between me and him. 

“Fine. Don’t blame me if it sucks, though. Now hold on while I order,” I say, before looking up at the person at the register. 

The image of Mellark must still not have left my mind, because when I look up, I see Mellark standing in front of me, leaning against the cash register with a cocky smirk on his face. 

I focus more and realise that the person standing in front of me’s hair is lighter, his eyes not as intense of a blue, and his shoulders aren’t as broad. Plus, he doesn’t have a light showering of freckles across his nose or that dimple. Other than that, he could pass easily as Mellark’s brother. 

“Hey, beautiful. What can I get you?” Rye – as his nametag indicates – asks. I hold back from rolling my eyes at the second word. Deja Poo – the feeling that you’ve heard this crap before. 

“Hi. Can I get six cheese buns, please?” 

“Of course. For here or takeaway?” 

“Uh-here, thanks.” 

“Okay,” he says, finishing entering my order in the register. “And would you like it with or without one of my special kisses?” 

No. There’s no way. I must have misheard him. “Sorry?” 

Yeah, ok, because responding with a wink tells me all the world’s secrets and makes you that much hotter. Only Finnick is into secrets. 

“Uh, I’m fine thanks.” My face must be beet red. 

“Are you sure? They discount the price of your order and,” he leans in a bit and whispers conspiratorially, “I’ve heard that they deeply satisfy every customer they’re offered to.” 

“It deeply pains me to do so, but I’m afraid I must pass on the offer,” I say sarcastically. He grins and checks the empty tray in the display case labelled ‘cheese buns’. 

“Shit. Hey Peet!” he calls out. 

From somewhere in the back, a familiar voice responds by letting Rye know that he’ll be out in a few seconds. 

“Have you got the new batches? Beautiful over here wants some cheese buns,” Rye asks as fucking Mellark walks through the kitchen doors. 

“Right he- Everdeen?” His jaw is as close to the floor as mine. 

“Y-you work here?” I sputter. 

He gives a small smile that threatens to make me throw up with the odd sensation in my stomach. “Uh, yeah. ‘M’s’ stands for ‘Mellark’s’.” 

That makes a lot more sense. With both Rye and Mellark standing beside each other, the differences are that much starker. 

“Anyway, the cheese buns are on the house,” he says. 

“Mellark, I can’t let you d-” I begin, only to be cut off. 

“I insist. Plus, it’s the least I can do since you’re going to be giving me a ride to training?” Despite his confident demeanour, there’s a shy lilt to his voice at the end that makes me think of it as more of a question. 

I fold my arms and rest my weight on my right leg. “And why would I do that?” 

“Um, because you’re a really nice person who’s willing to help out a friend(?)-colleague(?)-in need? No? Uh, well, you see everyone else is busy and you’re already here, so...” he sighs at my unwavering hard expression. Then his eyes light up in the most annoyingly adorable way and he grabs something off the counter and hides it behind his back as he comes around to where I’m standing in front of the cases. 

To my absolute shock, he sinks to one knee before me and presents the tray of my cheese buns that was hidden behind his back and asks, in the most hopeful voice I’ve ever heard, “Free cheese buns?” 

Now that he’s in front of me, I can see clearly how the black muscle tee he wears clings deliciously to his broad chest, shows off his bulging biceps and makes his bright eyes appear to glow. God, those fucking eyes. They’re almost cuter than Prim’s. 

“Brainless! What’s going on? Are you done yet?” Johanna whines over the phone. I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose frustratedly. 

“Fine, Mellark. But just this once,” I say, snatching up the cheese buns and sitting at a table. “One sec, Jo, I just got my cheese buns.” There’s a pause as I wolf down the cheese buns, moaning at the orgasm-giving taste. I lick the butter off my fingers and lick my lips, drying both off with a napkin. “Okay, I’m done.” I get up, tossing my rucksack over my shoulder after I put the tray in the box in which a stack usually resides. 

I’m just about out the door when I notice Mellark isn’t following me. I turn to see him and Rye gawking at me. I don’t even bother asking what’s wrong, and instead ask if Mellark is still coming. His mouth shuts, he grabs his own rucksack and waves goodbye to Rye. 

“What, no goodbye kiss?” Rye calls out. 

“Since when do we ev-” Mellark begins but Rye cuts him off. 

“I was talking to beautiful,” he scoffs and looks at me expectantly. 

I smile at him and kiss my middle finger before flipping him off. His laugh is muffled by the door swinging shut behind us. 

“Yes, Jo,” I say into the phone. 

“Ugh, finally, bitch,” she exclaims exasperatedly. 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

“What happened?” 

“Turns out Mellark works at M’s and convinced me to drive him to training,” I say, my gaze darting over to Mellark, who is grinning abashedly. Why must he be so good-looking? 

“Well, I mean, obviously. How many Mellarks do you know of?” 

“Okay, I didn’t know that that’s what M abbreviated!” 

“Well, duh. So how did he convince you?” 

I pass Mellark my helmet and show him how to adjust the size before I unchain my beloved Hunter swing myself up on him. 

“The only way one can convince Katniss Everdeen to do anything: cheese buns,” I say, the latter part Johanna saying at the same time. “’K, I’ve gotta go now, Jo. If you’re still bored, just read your favourite book. Or fanfictions on them. Bye.” 

“Thanks, Katniss. See ya,” Johanna returns before hanging up. 

I turn to Mellark motion for him to climb onto Hunter. He hesitates before straddling the seat and sitting a few inches from me. 

And he’s a gentleman? Does this guy have any faults? 

The former, or he just doesn’t want to have to touch me. Understandable. 

“Those cheese buns went down pretty quick... You coudn’t have even saved one for me?” Mellark asks teasingly. 

I turn back to look at him with a raised brow. “If I had six cheese buns and you took one, do you know what you would have?” 

He looks confused for a second. “Um, one?” 

I make that buzzer noise that sounds when someone gets an answer wrong in those reality tv shows, “Wrong. You’d have a black eye and a broken hand.” Mellark actually looks terrified for a second before I burst out laughing and a dopey, slightly embarassed grin crosses his face. “Anyway, this sexy beast, is Hunter,” I tell Mellark, smiling proudly. 

His lips twitch and he says, “He is gorgeous.” 

“Have you ever ridden a motorbike?” I ask. 

“Uh, no,” he admits, rubbing the back of his flushed neck. 

“Good luck, then,” I smirk, before speeding off towards Panem Police. 

Everything’s fine until I brake hard for some asshole to pass and Mellark lurches down Hunter’s seat towards me. His chest is flush against my back and his warm hands gripped my waist for support. 

See now, you’d think that that’d be fine, especially since his hands never moved a mere millimetre from my waist, but the thing is that his warm breath kept tickling my neck and sending shivers down my spine. Plus, the warmth from his palms seemed to seep through my tank top (I figured that since they’ve already seen me practically naked, I might as well wear something more fitness-appropriate) and flood through my nerves to make my heart pound at a tremendous rate. 

I barely manage to get us safely to the station, what with the strange sort of heart palpitations rocking my body at Mellark’s close proximity. I lock Hunter to the bike stand and we walk into the Gym together. 

Seeing as we have a new case, the training days are shorter. We only do a warmup, some basic cardio and toning exercises and stretches before we spend a couple hours on the case. 

Only Darius and Cato are there, so I go over the training schedule and plan for today while we wait for Gale, Finnick and Thresh to join us.   
Kpkpkpkp 

“Nice warm up, guys,” I call out, with Darius and I tossing everyone their towel and bottles. The cool water soothes my throat and I quickly wipe my face with a towel. 

I wait five minutes before gathers the guys around for the exercises. 

“We’re going to be working on the case for the majority of today, so just some workouts sans equipment and stretches are all we’re going to be doing for today.” 

I make them set their mats on the ground and walk around them, making sure that they’re all doing the sets I’ve assigned properly. 

Did you know that everybody has between two million and five million sweat glands across their body? Which is why I find it extremely unjust that every single one of Mellark’s make his body look like a fucking sculpted fountain of seductive toned muscle? 

I mean, come on. He’s sparkling! 

And don’t question me! It’s not the gross sheen of sweat that makes you want to a vomit; it’s like he has an actual veil of glitter strewn across his body. 

The fourth set finishes and Cato decides to remind me that he’s an asshole. “How come you’re not doing these sets with us? I mean, I get that you probably can’t take as much as you’re giving, but at least try.” 

“Oh, you think I’m not as fit or physically capable as you?” I ask, feeling a fire flare deep within me. 

He shrugs and I catch the others taking a couple steps back. 

“Okay, tell you what. We’re going to finish off the final set and I’ll do the other four while you guys take a five-minute break. You can choose what we compete in.” Normally, I would have simply ignored him, but I had six cheese buns for breakfast. I am fuelled cheese buns, sarcasm and fire, just to clarify. 

I complete the five sets by the time their break is over and wait for Cato to tell me what he’s decided. I catch Mellark and Thresh each with a hand on his shoulder; from what I can make of the conversation, they’re trying to convince him to back out. 

“No, no. Step back, you two. Cato dug his own grave – he can lie in it,” I say coolly. 

“I’ve got it. Ten laps around the Gym, all five sets that we just did, five lap sprint and then kickboxing in the middle. Same rules as the first day.” Cato suggests. I grin wickedly and nod. 

“Darius, set us off,” I command. We walk over to the corner by the entrance doors and wait for Darius’s signal. 

“Three...Two...One...Go!” 

I stand back as Cato speeds off, offering him a minute’s head start before I run at a steady pace and easily lap him several times before completing the five sets I’d assigned. As I begin sprinting the first of the five laps, I catch Mellark, Gale, Finnick, Thresh and Darius grinning at me with their arms outstretched. I smile and high-five all of them each time I complete a lap, laughing when I spy them retracting their hands when Cato nears them. 

Now I’m supposed to wait for Cato to join me, but I figure it would do no harm to run backwards beside him just to piss him off. I feel like this perfectly demonstrates my spirit animal: a slightly deranged unicorn who has a mission to poke holes into every annoying person. 

He jogs over to the kickboxing circle and I stroll after him. His stance is wide and he leans forward, breathing heavily and I start re-braiding my hair. Cato is a very capable fighter, but his one issue is that he gets angered too easily. He can’t focus it and instead lets it blind him; his moves become sloppy and misguided. 

And, that’s exactly what happens now. He charges at me, infuriated by my lack of attention, and he would have ended up lurching out of the circle if not for me grasping his shirt and yanking him back to safety. 

We actually spar for a few minutes but it’s clear that this is an unfair fight, even if he wasn’t so blinded by rage. “Come on, Cato! Focus! Use your anger! Transfer it into power, into heightened senses, into greater thinking ability, something!” He actually listens to me and is able to aim some more skilful jabs and kicks. “Good!” I let him knock me back a few steps before going in for the kill. 

He charges at me again, but I vertical leap onto him so that my shins are balanced precariously on his shoulders and my feet are locked around his throat before I use my core strength to flip him over onto the ground, flat on his back. 

He is, however, still not out. So, I stand by him and, just for some finesse and sass, roll him out of the circle as I sink into splits, bowing mockingly as I do so. 

The other guys rush over to us while I help Cato up. “Let this be a reminder to you. I have been hired to train you all, and I’m now a part of Squad 451. Trust what I’m doing and understand that we are a team. If any one of us is less capable than the other, they wouldn’t be here, so respect your team; we are going to be the only one who’ll have each other’s back in danger,” I say, passing Cato his bottle and towel. He nods sheepishly. 

“Great. Now that we’ve got that sorted out, it’s time to stretch until Atala gets here for the case study,” I say. We fall into orderly lines and stretch to suit our abilities. 

Kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkp 

Whoever is in charge of all of this monstrosity is certainly no mindless idiot. 

We have been analysing the – unlikely-to-be-useful, might I add – pieces of evidence we’ve been provided with: the website, a series of missing person report from the past year (suggested for collection by Darius), and all the newspapers of this year. 

So far, we haven’t been able to conjure up even an inkling of a lead so as to who the culprit may be. The missing people reports are taken up with the squads who deal with such things by Darius and Finnick, and the newspapers have been split between us, while we each take it in turns to analyse the website. 

The newspapers are going to take a while to fully analyse, sort and link, so the majority of us work on that while the pairs view the website. When Mellark and I go through it, I have to admit that the criminal is nothing if not meticulous. There are no clues as to who (s)he is, and by the time we finish for the day, all of us are disheartened. 

Squad 451 is supposed to be the highest-level squad in all of Panem Police, but we are stuck on this case. With all of us having been used to nailing cases like that, I think it’s safe to say we’re all feeling disappointed. 

“Hey, why don’t we go to the Hob today? I think we all need to relax for a bit,” Gale suggests, to which we all agree. God, I could use a beer. 

I go into the females’ changing rooms while the guys go into the males’ to change into the spare clothes we’ve learnt to bring in case we decide to go to the Hob. I swap my tank top, sports bra, leggings and sports shoes for a camo halter-neck, faded ripped jean, combat boots and my dad’s hunting jacket. 

Leaving the keys for whoever is last to leave, I drive off on Hunter towards the Hob. 

Kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkp 

“This one time in high school, my English teacher - a wholehearted vegan, all about not killing animals etc. - accidentally stepped on a ladybug. He froze up and cradled it in his palm, out of nowhere quoting Hamlet. He was heartbroken and involved in his pain that I couldn’t tell him it was a red m&m,” Mellark says. I burst out laughing at the story, almost crying at it, along with everyone else. Mellark just seems to have this way about him; he can captivate an audience easily, have us feeling all sorts of emotions on command. 

No sooner do I calm down than I’m rolling about, laughing, at another one of Mellark’s stories. “Once, Rye went to a party with me and got super drunk, so my dad had to come pick us up. We were trying to act normal by keeping the conversation going, even though we knew that Dad already knew Rye was shit-faced, and Rye asked if Dad was a virgin. Dad turned to both of us with a pained look in his eyes and said, ‘Right now, I’m wishing I was,’.” 

“Oh...my...fucking...hell!” I wheeze out, nearing the danger zone. 

Mellark looks at me dying on the sofa and grins wickedly. “When we were in college, I promised my roommate that I’d be back before midnight – so that I wouldn’t disrupt his sleep too much, seeing as he had a big exam the next day. The beers went down and I got home at around three a.m., drunk. Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in our dorm started up and cuckooed three times. Quickly, realising that my roommate might wake up, I cuckooed another nine times. 

“I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution, in order to escape major yelling from my roommate. Because, although drunk, I still understood that three cuckoos plus nine cuckoos equal twelve cuckoos, which signifies midnight. 

“The next morning when my roomie asked me what time I got in, I said midnight. He didn’t seem to have realised anything and instead told me that we needed a new cuckoo clock. When I asked him why, he said, ‘Well, last night, our clock cuckooed three times, then said, “Oh shit!”, cuckooed four more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another three times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then proceeded to trip over the coffee table and fart,’.” 

Now I’m on the floor, crying over his story, absolutely delirious in my laughter. “You-you-ahahaha! And-and then, with the ‘cuckoos’-ahahahaha! Cuckoo! Hahahahaha! CUCKOO!” I yell, going cross-eyed. ‘Cuckoo’ is an extremely amusing word. 

I almost choke on the water I try to drink to calm myself because I said ‘cuckoo’ in my head again. Phew! I’m not drunk – honestly! Those were just really funny stories. 

I exhale heavily as I sit on the sofa, a wide smile on my face. God, I can’t remember the last time I laughed that much. 

Just as I settle down, the others laughing at my reaction, a gaggle of tall, leggy, curvy girls walk over to our group, each sitting on the arms by Gale, Finnick and Thresh, proceeding to flirt with them. My laughter starts up again at their shamelessness and lack of modesty. I barely manage to get the point across through my laughter. “Hey, girls, you might not want to flirt with them.” 

“And why not?” a high-pitched redhead asks haughtily. 

“Because,” I giggle, “their boyfriends might not approve.” 

“Boyfriends?!” another busty blonde asks. 

I barely supress another fit of laughter at Gale, Finnick and Thresh’s flustered faces. “Uh-huh. And,” I lean further towards them, “I know them personally. They work at Panem Police, and are more higher-up; are trusted to make the right decision without having to consolidate, so to speak.” 

They immediately step away from them, and instead rush towards Mellark, Darius and Cato. The latter immediately pulls the brunette into his lap for a disgusting makeout session, while Darius flirts with the redhead. The blonde is all over Mellark, and I find myself with an odd, sort of angry emotion, flood through my veins. I expect Mellark to return the favour to her, but to my surprise, he doesn’t. 

In fact, he tries to politely discourage her flirting. It sobers me up some, but I erupt in another fit of giggles at the helpless, pleading look he shoots me when she isn’t dissuaded. His hands sneakily clasp together at me in a praying gesture when the girl’s claws sink into his bicep. 

I figure a quick sass would be enough to offend her and be on her way, but I can’t get one in until she uses a trashy pick-up line that gives me the perfect opening. 

“So, they say I’m cool, and you’re pretty hot; opposites attract, right?” she says. 

I chuckle out, “Well then, better not get too close to him, babe. Plastic melts.” 

As expected, she gawks at me before yanking her friends away to some other, more willing guys. 

And, the laughter boom begins. I take a photo of Gale, Finnick and Thresh’s embarassed faces (to send to their girlfriends, with a description of what happened), Cato’s pissed off face (at being denied an easy lay), Darius’s completely entertained smile, and finally Mellark’s bright red face tinged with relief. 

God, I need to get these framed or something.   
Kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkp 

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” I whisper, leaning down to kiss Prim’s forehead and shutting the door behind me when I leave to go to my room. Changing into a pair of loose leggings and an oversized shirt after a quick shower, I jump into bed and stare at the ceiling for my nightly ritual of contemplating the universe. 

How else will I sleep? 

I notice that strange feeling I got from seeing that blonde with Mellark has dissipated and I have to wonder what it was. That’s the thing with emotions. They’re so strange. 

I mean, have you ever wondered about the purpose of them? They come and go and can lift our spirits yet toss our mood down a near bottomless abyss at the same time. They are never the same and often hit us when we least expect it. But I’ve realised something. They’re here for a reason, because whether it’s happiness, sadness, loneliness, anger, whatever the heck I felt back at the Hob, life challenges you. 

I’m so stuck in my own mind trying to get rid of them and seeing them as a bad thing, but maybe they’re here for a reason. To represent experiences, or something else, I don’t know. I’m still unsure about the things my heart tells me, because it often gets me into deep shit when its only purpose is to pump blood, but maybe one day, I’ll be strong. Fearless. 

Fearless of the challenges life likes to toss about, fearless of my own emotions. Fearless of who I am. 

That day is not today, but I hope it comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> I'm so sorry about the late update. I've been so busy with classes that the story ended up getting pushed to the side a bit. Right now, I'm on winter break, and I wrote this story in literally three days, so I'm sorry if it's not as well-edited as usual.  
> Anyway, I hope that you guys liked the chapter!  
> Remember to leave kudos and comment some feedback! I am so thankful to all of you who have done so, so far.  
> xEverlark4Lifex


	9. Story Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A whole lot of drama.

**Katniss POV**

My peaceful – more or less - slumber is awoken by those birds chirping outside my room. Rubbing my face tiredly and checking my clock, I glower at my window. What the fuck are birds so excited about at 5a.m.? 

I look down, and my mood is instantly lifted. Swaddled in pink blankets and latched onto my arm is Prim, looking like a perfect angel. She doesn’t usually sleep with me, but she had a nightmare last night and I brought her to my room after hearing her cries.

God, I never want to hear her cry again. The fear and anguish on her face was too much for me to bear. 

Now, however, a peaceful smile rests on her rosy-cheeked face – the latter of which I peck lovingly.

It’s still only 5a.m., so I decide to get in a couple hours more of sleep before I have to wake up to make breakfast for Prim, drop her off at Johanna’s house, and go to work. 

Kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkp

A large finger gently taps my shoulder. Keeping my eyes closed, I shrug it off with a frown before cuddling Prim closer to me. The finger, however, is insistent, tapping me repeatedly until I respond.

Grabbing the finger, I whisper threateningly (I would yell, but I don’t want Prim to wake up), “Listen here, buddy. I don’t give two shits about who you are or what you want, but in case you can’t tell, I’m sleeping. So  _fuck_.  _Off_.”

Does the damn finger ever give up? I lurch up to a sitting position and rub the sleep from my eyes. “What?”

To my absolute shock, six men in all black wearing ski masks that shield even the colour of their eyes from my view stand at the foot of my bed. I tiredly rub my eyes and scowl at them. “Now? Really? For fuck’s sake leave me alone.” They just look at each other before turning back to me. “Come on. I have to work with six idiots in another hour, and you really want to do this to me? I mean, okay, three – four of them are fine, but I mean there’s this misogynistic asshole and fucking  _Mellark_.”

They do that rattling thing where they just silently look at each other then turn back to me, except this time, they go into offensive positions, as though ready to fight. Sighing, I turn around and tuck Prim in tighter and angle two throw pillows to try and cover her ears from any impending noise. 

I stand up and say, “Fine. But you best be silent or I will kill you.”

The men are actually more skilled than I have had experience with in the past, yet I am still able to throw drop punches, flying kicks and hooks to easily manoeuvre them to a stand in the corner of my room. A hard uppercut to each of them is enough to knock them out until I can use a long rope of tied-together belts to keep them firmly in position. 

They become conscious and struggle against the bonds just seconds before Prim starts crying. I glare at them as menacingly as possible and whisper, “Okay, I’m going to need you guys to put those last few remaining brain cells together and work with me here. If I hear so much as a deep breath from you, I will skin and gut you like the animals I have hunted since I was eight. Understood?” They nod once and, after a final death stare, I crawl over to Prim.

Picking her up and positioning her in my lap so that her back faces the men, I gently wake her up. As soon as she does, the distress and angst in her normally clear blue eyes sends a painful pang to the heart she helped heal. 

“Hey, hey, baby girl. You’re okay, you’re safe. I’m here. I’ll protect you always, remember?” I say soothingly, her sniffles die down as she flings her arms around my neck and burrows her face in my neck. I close my eyes and hug her tightly to me. “You’re safe...You’re safe.”

Eventually, she sits up in my lap and smiles tentatively at me. “Do you want to tell me about it, Little Duck?” I ask. She thinks for a second before shaking her head and resting her head back against my chest. I rub her back consolingly.

We stay like that for a few minutes before she asks me something that I hoped she’d never ask. “Kitty? What happened to my Mommy and Daddy?”

I suck in a deep breath as tears spring to my eyes. Her eyes are wide and curious, vivacious as ever. I don’t want to have to ruin that spark in her eyes. “Well, Little Duck, in life, your mommy and daddy are some of the most important people in your life. You even had an older sister called Willow. But, sometimes, people leave. 

“They died. They joined the rest of our family in a special place called Heaven. It’s where all the good people go to. And, although they aren’t here physically, memories of them stay with us throughout. It’s a bit hard to understand right now, but-” I reach over to my bedside table where there’s a photo of Mama, Daddy, Willow and I laughing together at the funny faces we try to hold for the camera. “-here. That’s Daddy, Mommy and Willow. I’ve kept so many possessions of theirs, most of which I’ll pass down to you when you’re old enough.

“I can guarantee that if they were here, they would love you just as much as I love you. Please, if you take away anything from this, understand that they didn’t leave because of you. Life can be unfair sometimes, but there’s always hope for a better tomorrow. And, it may take a while – I haven’t even fully come to terms with it yet – but you will eventually stop thinking it’s your fault. Because it’s not. It’s not your fault.”

Prim reaches towards me and tries to wipe away the stream of tears I didn’t even realise that I’d released. “Kitty, can you please sing me to sleep?”

I give her a watery smile and nod, even as I hesitantly dart my eyes over to the bound men. I take a deep breath.

And then I sing.

Peeta POV

And then she sings.

And, Gods above, it is the most angelic thing I’ve ever heard. Her voice brings further tears to my eyes than her words. 

God, how did an innocent prank turn into this. The Squad 451 guys and I were just supposed to pull this on Everdeen as a gag. We certainly didn’t expect this.

_There was a time, I used to look into my father's eyes_    
 _In a happy home, I was a_ queen _I had a golden throne_    
 _Those days are gone, now the memories are on the wall_    
 _I hear the sounds from the places where I was born_

_Up on the hill across the blue lake_    
 _That's where I had my first heart break_    
 _I still remember how it all changed_    
 _My father said_    
 _Don't you worry, don't you worry child_    
 _See_ _heaven's_ _got a plan for you_    
 _Don't you worry, don't you worry now, yeah_

_Don't you worry, don't you worry child_    
 _See_ _heaven's_ _got a plan for you_    
 _Don't you worry, don't you worry now, yeah_

_There was a time, I met a_ guy _of a_ certain _kind_    
 _We ruled the world,_    
 _Thought I'll never lose_ him _out of sight_    
 _We were so young_    
 _I think of_ him _now and then_    
 _I still hear the songs, reminding me of a friend_

_Up on the hill across the blue lake_    
 _That's where I had my first heart break_    
 _I still remember how it all changed_    
 _My father said_    
 _Don't you worry, don't you worry child_    
 _See_ _heaven's_ _got a plan for you_    
 _Don't you worry, don't you worry now, yeah_

_Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh_    
 _Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh_    
 _Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh_    
 _See_ _heaven's_ _got a plan for you_    
 _Don't you worry, don't you worry child_    
 _See_ _heaven's_ _got a plan for you_    
 _Don't you worry, don't you worry now, yeah_

_Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh_    
 _Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh_    
 _Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, yeah_

She finishes the song and tucks her sleeping sister(?) into the bed before singing again.

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow_

_A bed of grass, a soft green pillow_

_Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes_

_And_ _when again they open, the sun will rise._

_Here it’s safe, here it’s warm_

_Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you._

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away_

_A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray_

_Forget your woes and let your troubles lay_

_And_ _when again it’s morning, they’ll wash away._

_Here it’s safe, here it’s warm Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you._

Everdeen grabs a pillow and muffles her racking sobs into it. My whole body aches to reach out and help her, but her makeshift rope is too strong. All I can do is clench my fists as she cries into her pillow.

After several minutes that feel like hours, she sits up and faces us, her bloodshot eyes doing nothing to mar her beauty. She crawls over to sit at the foot of her bed and rests her head in her palm, tapping her chin contemplatively. “What should I do with you six?” Her voice is scratchy from the tears but ethereal as ever. 

Her eyes shift from us to some place far-off as her eyes dim further. Tears spring back to her eyes and she squeezes her eyes tight, biting her lip to the point of blood in what I assume is an attempt to hold the tears at bay.

When that doesn’t work, she does the most shocking thing I could have ever expected. She uses her nails to slash through the skin of her wrist. I automatically lurch against the belts. The pain seems to focus her, however. She walks over to her floor-to-ceiling mirror and scrutinises the gash before grabbing a cotton bud and dousing it with Dettol (both of which she took from the chest of drawers nearby) and using it to clean the wound.

She doesn’t even wince at the inevitable sting, but she does rub her face after putting the equipment away. “Fuck. Gale, Finn and Thresh are going to get so pissed.” Everdeen thinks for a moment before closing the walk-in closet door behind her and walking out only a few minutes later in a sports bra, tank top, jacket and yoga pants that leave only a little bit more to the imagination that her black velvet booty shorts that she was using as pyjamas did. The jacket conceals her wound entirely, which Everdeen nods to. 

Turning back to us, a single fleck of gold in each eye burns as she says, “What did you guys plan on doing with me?”

No one responds. 

“Not going to talk, huh? Well then, I’ll do the talking. It’s a shame that you chose this house, seeing as I happen to be a police officer.” No one moves. She scowls at our lack of response. “What? That doesn’t bother you? Fine. I’ll just have to work this out myself.”

She steeples her fingers together and narrows her eyes at us, sporadically muttering out her thoughts.

“Why would they...No, that doesn’t make any...Maybe if-no...But why cover them?...Unless...recognise...just in case?...useless...Haymitch?...”

On it goes for about ten minutes before she collapses back onto her bed and groans. “God damnit. I hate you all.” She unties us and glares menacingly. “Whose idea was this?” When we look at each other then back to her, silent, she pinches the bridge of her nose. “None of that. And, off with the masks. I know it’s you guys. What? You want clarification? Mellark, Finnick, Thresh, Gale, Darius and Cato.”

We slowly and sheepishly remove the ski masks. She stares at us unwaveringly, a brow raised. I raise my hand to prevent Gale from getting punched. “Don’t lie, Mellark.” My hand goes back down. Gale eventually owns up and Katniss nods before delivering a sharp punch to his arm. 

“Oof!” Gale rubs the spot on his arm gingerly.

I hold my hand out and Everdeen reluctantly places her hand in mine. As gently as possible, I roll up her jacket sleeve and lightly trace over the cut. It’s clear that it’s not all that deep, but it still inexplicably makes my heart ache. 

Our eyes meet and I watch as, one by one, the gold flecks of her eyes burn brightly. Someone clears their throat and our eyes dart away. I focus on tenderly rolling her jacket sleeve back down even as my lips twitch at the sight of her blush.

Kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkpkp

**Katniss POV**

I walk into the Gym, letting my curses (towards the guys) be swept away by the cool air-conditioning so that I can decently train them without working them to the bone. Slipping my helmet and rucksack into my locker after taking out a fresh towel and water bottle, I stride over to where the boys wait for me and cross my arms.

“You guys do realise that you’re going to have to deal with some major payback, right? Okay, great. So, today we’re going to do six sets of fifteen reps and a few training/team-building games. Atala cancelled the case review today. She said that she thought we might need to clear our heads and take a break from it so we can actually figure it out.” I lead them to the centre of the Gym, trying not to chuckle at the terrified looks on their faces from my threat. 

We spend about forty-five minutes on the sets. Now comes my favourite part. 

As we catch a water break, I explain the rules of the first game. “For the first game, you guys are going to split into pairs. The area of the Gym enclosed with tape is the minefield. As you can see, I’ve placed several objects around the marked-off area. One of you – from the pair - are going to be blindfolded.

“The others stand outside the enclosed area and verbally instruct the blindfolded teammate to navigate across the route, picking up the things that will get you point and avoiding stepping on anything that is considered a mine or outside the enclosed area. This will convey learning on trust, active listening and communication. To make it more difficult, there will be specific routes the blindfolded team members must walk and only certain words/clues will be allowed to be used for guiding.

“Exercise mats, wet areas (spaces I’ve spilled water on), tubing and bands are mines. Every time you touch a mine, you must drop an object. Keep in mind, since you are blindfolded, your partner will have to explain to you which one to drop in order to avoid dropping the higher-point ones. Weights and dumbbells are worth as many points as their weight. I.e., one-kilogram weights are worth one point, ten-kilo weights are worth ten points, etc. 

“You can only use...animals...and...fruits as clues. But both partners must cross the minefield. The pairs are as follows: Cato with Gale, Darius with Finnick, and finally Mellark with Thresh. I’ll umpire. Choose who’s going to be blindfolded first and get in position...Ready?...Three...Two...One...Go!”

Soon, every one of us is on the floor laughing. Cato’s cocky demeanour is crushed when he slips on some of the water and lands on his butt; Finnick’s one-kilo weight crushes his little toe and he hops on one foot straight out of the minefield, tangling himself in the tape; Thresh squeals like a little girl when foot brushes the tubing. 

Then they switch. Gale misunderstands Cato’s ‘tortoise’ direction to walk slowly, and instead dives to the flow and proceeds to primly crawl straight into a puddle of water and yell, “Oh shit! I took the transformation too far! I’m in actual water from the ocean or some shit! Help!”; Darius howls as he slips into splits, cursing out Finnick for his ‘banana’ instruction; Mellark slips on some water, somehow lands on a mat on his side (his head propped up by a hand, the other on his hip, and one of his legs bent with the knee facing the sky), which then continues to slip across the several puddle to bring him to the finish line. Except he doesn’t stop. Winking and raising his hand in a ‘call me’ sign to me, he crashes into a pillar.

We’re all laughing our heads off on the floor, calming down only to look at each other and start up again. I’m interrupted when a familiar finger taps on my shoulder. I spin around and all at once, any good feelings I managed to conjure up today disappear at the person who stands behind me.

My jaw drops. I rub my eyes, but he’s still there, smiling and attractive as ever. I reach to my side in hopes of support, but everyone is still in the minefield, laughing.

As I stare at him, memories cloud my mind. 

Diving competitions and late-night cuddles. Sweet nothings and ‘I love you,’s. Cute carnival gifts and make-out sessions.

I smile at him and he grins, leaning in for a kiss.

But then other memories flood in.

Raised hands and eyes filled with hatred. Dehumanising words and laughing insults. Bedding other girls and disregard of my past. 

I muster up all the strength and punch him, knocking him to the ground. Panting, I watch as he stands up, rolling his jaw and smiling at me sickly. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, Marvel?” I spit out. The name grabs the attention of the others, the laughing halted. After a few moments, I feel six sturdy presences behind me.

Marvel hooks a finger and runs it up and down my bare arm. I pull it away, disgusted and seriously regretting removing my jacket (covering up the wound with an armband instead) earlier. “Come now, baby. Is that any way to treat your boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyfriend.” 

“You’re still feeling like that, even after all this time?” he asks.

“You cheated on me!” I say, disgusted at his lack of intelligence and pure ignorance. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he begins, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me to him, “can’t you just let bygones be bygones? Mm, you’ve just gotten hotter and hotter, haven’t you?” His left hand rises up to y breast while the right grabs my chin to hold it in place as he leans in for another kiss. 

I shove him away, shoving him up against a pillar and holding him in place with my forearm. “Let ‘bygones be bygones’?!” You want me to forget everything you’ve ever done to me?! I still have marks on my body from all of your abuse! You tried to force yourself on me, and when I refused, you had a lot to say about me didn’t you? About my ‘daddy issues’, about my lack of attractiveness, about my ‘uselessness’. About how worthless I am, how you only dated me to get an easy lay, how much of a ‘whoring slut’ I am. About my past and about who I was then. Or did you forget those words?”

“Baby,  _I love you_ ,” Marvel pleads. I press him tighter into the pillar.

“Lies, lies, and more lies. You think I believe you? Now listen here, and listen good. The girl you dated? That wasn’t who I am. I was starved for affection and you were a good-looking guy who gave me attention. I latched onto you because my remaining parent died. Even then, I tried my hardest to be the best for you. I was there for you in your darkest times and your darkest nights, but where were you when I was at my worst? Oh, that’s right, whoring yourself around.

“I became so dependent on you that when you broke up with me, I was broken. But I don’t want you back. That girl wasn’t me. I was emotionally and mentally unstable, and I became weak and obsessive. But guess what? Yes, I have been through some terrible things. Yes, I have been broken down and beaten up and brought to nothing. Yes, the light in me has been put out. But even after a fire has been put out, it can be started again. Sometimes it takes a while, and sometimes I needed help, but even ashes can burn into the brightest fire you’ve ever seen. Because that’s what I am; I’m fire, a flame that can’t die. Not the weak candle you dated.”

“Katniss, I’m sorry, okay! I know I let you down and I should have done more for you. I regret every bad thing I’ve ever done. It keeps me up at night, all the time. We had some laughs, though, didn’t we? And you were happy, for a while. Shouldn’t that count for something? Even if it doesn’t, if you’d just give me one more chance to make you mine, I’ll-” he begins. But I’ve had it with him.

“You’ll do what? Build me up only to rip me into pieces? I’ve had enough of your pretty words and lies. I did everything to make you happy! You wanna know what I’m scared of? I’m scared of everything! I’m scared to move, I’m scared to breathe, I’m scared to trust! You made me let you in, you made me trust you, you made me give up everything for you! I lost you, Marvel. I fucking lost you, and I survived. And that’s your fault.”

“But, baby, you love me, you said so yourself-”

“No! I don’t love you! Never have, never will. I’ll never forgive you, either. If I had another chance, I would have left you as soon as you spoke that first goddamn suave word to me, out of sight and out of mind. I hate you and I hate us. 

“I don’t chase people anymore. Wanna walk out my life? Here’s the door. Hell, I’ll even hold it for you. Not one drop of my self-worth depends on your acceptance of me. And I will never, ever want you and your arrogant masculine pride back ever again!”

I’m breathing heavily as I let him go and stand back, waiting for him to leave. But he doesn’t take the hint. “Oh, sweetheart, you think you are but you’re not over me,” he says condescendingly as always.

“Well, I’d get those eyes checked, seeing as they’re the only balls you have,” I spew.

“Say what you want, you’re not over me, and never will be.”

A pure unadulterated anger rises up in me. I turn to Mellark and beg him with my eyes to play along as I bring his face down and kiss him.

Did you know that the average person spends two weeks of their life kissing? I would spend all my life kissing Peeta.

The second our lips – his really are as soft as they look - made contact, a new kind of spark that I’d never felt before struck through me. My heart pounded against my chest as his inherent smell of cinnamon and dill filled my nose. I find myself losing myself in the kiss. His tongue presses gently against my lips and I open them in invitation.

That was probably the best decision I’d ever made.

His tongue just...God. 

We tangle our tongues together, and I moan when he sucks on my tongue. I bury my fingers in his head of soft, golden locks and pull slightly, to which he groans in response. He urges my arm to hook around his neck and wraps his arm underneath my ass before he lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. Peeta spins us around so that my back is pressed up against the pillar.

I pull my tongue out of his mouth, biting his lip as I go. He groans again and begins kissing down the side of my neck, pressing his tongue against my pulse point. 

“GUYS!” someone yells, and has presumably been doing so for a while if the frustration in the voice is any indication. 

We break apart to see Finnick, Gale and Thresh looking like they want to gouge their eyes out or throw up and Darius rubbing the back of his neck as he points to where Marvel was. “He left like...fifteen minutes ago, cursing under his breath.”

I look back at Mellark and blush furiously at the darkened hue of his eyes even as my stomach swoops and a wetness dampens my underwear. He sets me down on the ground and we both turn to face them. I bite my lip in attempt to impede the inexplicable smile threatening to bloom on my face.

Instead, I scowl at Thresh, Finnick and Gale. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Quit acting so childish! I had to deal with this all the time with you and the girls!” Even I can hear how flustered I sound.

“Yeah, but you’re like a little sister to us! That was gross!” Finnick replies.

Darius senses the oncoming argument and tries to deflect. “Hob tonight, guys?”

“I have a feeling we’ll need to book a private room for all of us. A lot of shit’s happened today, and I doubt we’d want someone hearing it all,” Cato says, to my surprise. I shoot him a grateful smile and he gives a small one back.

We go to our respective changing rooms to dress more presentably for the Hob.

I don’t even feel the wide smile on my face until my gaze darts to the mirror. 

\----

**Peeta POV**

I don’t even feel the wide smile on my face until Gale points it out.

“Dude, please get that smile off your face. It’s too happy and lovesick,” he groans. I smack myself to get it off, but this time I can feel it inching back on. 

God, kissing Katniss is like nothing else. I don’t even think that Heaven feels that good. 

Gale looks like he’s about to throw up though, so I shift my thoughts to something else. I shift them to Katniss’s fucking asshole of an ex, Marvel. I’ve never felt real jealousy before; I haven’t ever cared about someone enough to be like that. But that’s exactly what I felt when Katniss smiled at him, her eyes alight.

Obviously, that all went away when she went Hulk mode on him. I have never feared for someone’s life so much as I did when I saw the look of utter hatred in her eyes as she spit fire at him.

I shake my head to stop thinking about it and finish changing into a black tee and some faded blue jeans. Joining the other guys, I grab my rucksack and drive off in my convertible. At the last traffic light before the Hob, Katniss pulled ‘Hunter’ up next to my car.

I rolled down my window and waited for her to notice me. We both grin stupidly at each other before she smirks at me and speeds off in a wheelie, while I follow the curve of her ass, snug as it is against her pants. 

A car honks behind me and I realise it’s a green light. I swear under my breath and raise an apologetic hand to the person behind me before following Katniss to the Hob. 

I park my car and Everdeen and I walk over to where the others wait for us. We then walk in together and Cato leads us to the private room he must have booked through the phone from his car. I can see Katniss stiffening up at the writhing bodies on the dance floor and the pungent stench of booze, and can’t help but smile. That disappears when I catch sight of the large number of guys shamelessly staring at Katniss. 

A wave of possessiveness floods over me and I stand closer to her, even going to far as to lightly rest my fingertips on the small of her back, and glare at the more offending guys. Katniss whips around to face me, a questioning look on her face. I just grin at her and she gives me a shy, tentative smile in turn before facing the front. I feel all the breath leave my lungs.

God, she’s so beautiful. 

We finally reach the room Cato booked and he locks the door behind us as we spread out on the couches and chairs provided.

For a while, we just all look at each other awkwardly until I bite the bullet. 

“So. A lot of shit went down today. We found out a lot about Katniss, so I think it’s only fair that we all tell each other our stories. We’re going to have to put a lot of trust into each other, and what better way to do so than know who they were and who they are?” I say. 

The others nod and we look to Darius to begin. We’ve silently and unanimously decided to skip Finnick, Thresh and Gale’s stories, seeing as everyone here has already heard it. We all know each other’s (with the exception of Katniss’s) stories, but Katniss hasn’t heard Darius’s, Cato’s or mine. 

“Okay. My Dad was a major businessman. As a result, ever since I was young, I’ve been pushed to the side. The only thing either of my parents ever taught me was how to be polite and how to make the best deals. My only refuge was in school, but even there I was isolated and considered too ‘prim and proper’ to hang out with the ‘guys’. 

“As I grew up and saw how manipulative my father was, I became curious about the justice system. That eventually led to me being a police officer. It helped, I guess, because now I can do everything Katniss said that first day. Like she said, I’ve been trying out different things to help me loosen up. Turns out, I’m not bad at soccer.” We chuckle at his modest attempt at arrogance and those of us closer to him clap him on the back.

“My turn?” Cato asks. He takes our silence as an affirmative. “Alright then. I’ve always been rich. When I was young, I didn’t know how to handle all the money. At school, I tried to make friends, but I was always shut down because of my anger issues, attained by my father. Out of nowhere, I offered to buy toys. This got me friends. Toys eventually turned into simply money as we grew older. That was the only thing I’d ever known: money equals happiness. Dad furthered that thought when Mom divorced him and he bought his happiness in the form of booze.

“But it’s not. I’d realised that when I joined Panem Police Training Academy. Only hard work and commitment can get you what you deserve. Every day, a little piece of my asshole persona broke away. Squad 451 had probably helped the most, especially with Katniss putting me in my place. I’d like to think I’m well on my way to becoming a good person.” This pulls out smiles from all of us.

And, now, it’s my turn. This is the only reason why I regretted coming up with this idea. “I am one of three brothers. My mother had always wanted a girl, and hoped against hope that that’s what her third baby would be. But I wasn’t; and she hated me for it. She abused me.” Katniss gasps, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. “Always when there was no one else around. If Dad noticed the marks, he never said anything. I learned to cover them up to avoid questioning, but it didn’t change the fact that the woman who was supposed to love me, detested me.

“I’ve never known a gentle hand. As a result of my lack of a decent motherly figure, I vowed to never get so emotionally to a woman for fear of falling in love with someone like my mother. I do have many female friends, all of whom I cherish, but other than that, all the women I’ve interacted with have been for sex. I thought of them as manipulative and cunning, and none of them ever proved me wrong,” I finish with a shrug.

Katniss turns to me and catches my eye. “Oh, Peeta. You’ve been through so much and I can see why your view of women is so twisted, but haven’t you ever thought that maybe all the women you...have...sex...with, see you the same way? I mean, think about it; you are only looking for one-night stands, and they probably only want that, too. Neither of you want it to go further than that, so what’s the use in actually presenting personality traits when the only thing you need to present for...sex...are your bodies. For those who were hoping for something a bit more long-lasting, I assume you leaving before they wake up (typical one-night stand rituals) kind of makes them view you the same way,” she says.

I pause and consider what she says. It’s all true. It gives me a whole new perspective, and I can’t help but be grateful to her for it. I nod at her to convey my understanding. 

“So, my turn. I grew up in the Seam. Not the best of neighbourhoods, but I had the best family. I had two loving parents and a wonderful sister called Willow, who was four years younger than me. God, it was the best life I could have ever asked for. It was Daddy who taught me how to hunt. I was never without a smile on my face. Sure, we were poor, but we had each other, and that was all that mattered. Until we didn’t. 

“It was mine and Daddy’s birthday (we had the same one; I was turning eleven that year, and he thirty-seven) and he was working an extra-long shift at the mines to save up for a birthday gift for me, as he said that morning before we left. I’d wanted to do something for him, too, so for the first time ever, I braved the woods and managed to take down a deer all by myself. I was so proud, because venison stew was Daddy’s favourite.

“I’d hauled it all the way back home, although it took me ages to do so. Mama and Willow were so happy, and Mama got straight to preparing it for Daddy while Willow and I decorated the house with katniss flowers, willow plants, lily flowers and primroses – Daddy's favourite flowers. Mama suggested I go get Daddy, so I did, going over to the mines.

“I don’t if it was because of my youth and therefore wide auditory range or something else, but I could hear a sharp whistling sound that was unfamiliar. It turned out to be the sound the alarm makes as it conjures up enough power to begin blaring in order to warn miners of a mass collapse or explosion. Daddy was so occupied with getting everyone out that he forgot about himself. 

“I ran past the caution tape to the entrance of the mines and had my hand outstretched for him. He saw me and ran towards me, the flames of the explosion chasing him down. He was too late. I watched as the flames engulfed him entirely and heard his final cry of agony. The explosion threw me back and I was showered with my father’s ashes. There was nothing left of him to bury.

“I had to break the news to my mother and Willow, the former who decided that it was the perfect time to fall into a deep depression. She never moved from her spot at the window except to use the toilet. WIllow had to feed her. The insurance money came and went. We were starving. Eventually, I stumbled upon the bow and quiver of arrows that Daddy had made himself for my fifteenth birthday. 

“It was a little big, but I dealt with it. I hunted and gathered food myself and had more than enough food for my family; so much that I ended up giving some food away. I became a well-known trader at our black market and fed part of the Seam, which meant a lot of work. 

“Mama came back to us only long enough to diagnose me with mild leukaemia. I gathered five bag-fulls of game and herbs and travelled in the dead of night to District Four in the hope of trading for treatment so I could continue to support my family. I ended up being there for a week, but I made sure to keep multiple bags of game, herbs and other edible plants to feed my family. I was healed.

“Everything was going fine until about two years later. She’d rushed out to help bring in a man with some injury into the house – Mama would only wake up to heal people, physically – when the peacekeeper who brought him over accidentally shot Willow. She bled out in my arms before I could even call for help. The peacekeeper was transferred to some other District, but I didn’t care.

“For a while, it was just Mama and I. Eight years after Willow’s death, Mama began bringing men home. She then proceeded to drunkenly get pregnant with one of the IVF fertilised egg cells from the set that WIllow and I came from. Three months after my lovely sister’s, Primrose’s, birth, she committed suicide via an overdose of drugs. 

“I was left to care for Prim by myself, not that I minded; she’s such an angel. After a month or two, I met Marvel. God, he seemed like he was everything I wanted. I thought he loved me. Let’s just say it was a rude awakening when, coming back to consciousness after a round of chemotherapy, I caught him making out with my doctor, whispering the same words he’d whispered to me the night before.

“I broke up with him and demanded another doctor. Once I healed, I fell into a depression only disappearing around my sister. My friends convinced me to see a therapist; all the ones I’d tried to visit claimed I was hopeless after not even three sessions.

“You all saw that video on my first day. Right after that, I accepted the job offer from Haymitch because of the money it would bring Prim, but soon I grew to love the job for what it is; bringing justice to those who are innocent and put those who are dangerous in places where they can’t hurt people.”

Everyone is deathly silent for a few moments and Katniss lies against the back of her couch, as though waiting for judgement, disregard or disgust at her story. 

“Right now, I’m as open as I’ll ever be, so if you want to ask something, speak now or forever hold your peace,” she warns. 

“Why did you insist on wearing all of that damn make-up and those God forsaken contacts, and acting like a bitch to those you don’t know?” Gale asks cautiously.

She tenses but gives in. It’s clear how much she hates feeling vulnerable. “You all know I’m not great with words, but I’ll try to explain. It’s... It’s all like a kind of metaphorical mask for me. Or even like armor. It gives me something to hide behind, that protects me. I can fool even myself that I’m just another person in a crowd. There’s nothing that points towards who I am underneath the ‘disguises’. The person beneath all of that is broken, vulnerable, doesn’t trust easily. She’s also who those therapists call hopeless, the one that the neighbors pity, and Crane and his cronies tried to assault.” 

All of us stiffen at the mention. Katniss just continues staring at the ceiling as she carries on. “She’s worthless. I’m worthless. That’s one of the reasons I hate Marvel. All that verbal abuse he’s spat at me? It’s true.” She breathes out deeply, as though a weight has been lifted off her chest. I get up and sit next to her, wrapping my arms around her.

“Katniss,” I breathe. She turns to me and I see the dead look in her eyes. “You are beyond good for this world.” I can tell she’s about to deny it or play it off but I don’t let her. “No, honestly, you are. I have never met of anyone remotely as kind, brave or strong as you. Now, understand me, and understand me clearly: you are not worthless. Marvel is a stupid fuckhead who didn’t know shit about who he was talking about. You are God’s greatest creation, and I could only hope to have someone love me as fiercely as you love those you care about.”

She wraps her arms around my neck and sobs into my neck as I rub her back comfortingly. One by one, the others place consoling arms around Katniss. 

And that’s when I realise, despite our lack of strong familial relationships, we have a close, tight-knit family right here. 

And that’s all we’ll ever need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> This was one of my favourite chapters to write, so I hope you enjoyed it!  
> Just a few credits:  
> A couple adapted lyrics from the following songs were used in the MarvelxKatniss fight:   
> I Should Hate You - E.S.G  
> I Hate Us - One Hope  
> What If I Said I'm Sorry? - Loving Caliber  
> Remember to leave kudos and feedback (via comments) if you liked the story! Special thanks to all those who have done so already.  
> Next Chapter Teaser: Katniss gets payback, a new lead for the case is discovered, and Peeta comes upon a certain revelation. ;-)  
> xEverlark4Lifex

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!  
> This is my second fanfiction, so I'm still kind of new to the whole setup, XD  
> Let me know if anything I have included is wrong or you have any ideas for upcoming chapters!  
> I promise in the next chapter you will meet Peeta, and the chapters will be alternating POVs between Katniss and Peeta.  
> All mistakes are mine.  
> Remember to comment and leave kudos.  
> xEverlark4Lifex


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